The Last Resort
by Nausicaa the Oracle
Summary: Calan Porter is a convict exiled to Venom shortly before Andross arrives. What happens afterwards is a mystery to Lylat. This story is based on events before and during the Lylat War. And yes, it has Andross and Star Wolf in it. PLZ R&R!
1. Iron Breaks the Wooden Stick

The Last Resort

Chapter 1:

_Iron Breaks the Wooden Stick_

Fort Vicente, Venom

February 1, 2668

It was a warm day, back in February of 2668. Calan could remember it as if it was just yesterday. He could smell the thick humidity in the air. It was not something that he enjoyed very much, as it felt more like a smothering cloud than an incoming rainstorm. They'd be confined to their tents for a while longer. Calan hated that.

Once a day he checked the torches to make sure they were lit. They were, as always, but it was a pain to keep them lit. Rain came in often, and there was plenty of it. Fierce wind often accompanied late-night storms that seemed to sweep away the citizens of Fort Vicente. Hard-working men and women fought to keep their land safe from creatures that would kill with one swift swipe of a venomous claw. There was a reason the planet had assumed the name "Venom". And it never ceased to fit.

Calan Porter was a young man of 23 years of age from Katina. His mother's side of the family had come from Adratia, which was a far away planet of felines, where their culture had Egyptian aspects and features. Of course, not all of it was. But much of it was. Calan's father was a leopard man working at a base at Katina as a mechanic. Calan's father was never one to waste items. He saved anything that still worked, and as far as Calan knew, the man had loads of stories to tell and things to show.

Calan's childhood had been bright. At least, he thought so. For a while. His mother had died back when he was a teenager—some sort of disease had taken her, and it was an epidemic there at the Katinan base. His father and the boy had survived, but only a few years later Porter had come down with the illness himself. After he died, Calan had to leave. While he traveled to a better place there on Katina, he found that he had to start all over again. It was like the first day of school—he had stressed that his name was not "Cahl-AN" or "CAHL-an", it was "CAY-lan". Then he had to point out that he was of half Adratian blood, for people always asked why his eyes had sort of an exotic look to them. He had gotten those from his mother—other things he got from his father.

Unfortunately, his travels through Katina were troubled. He ended up at the capital city, Javian City, only to find himself framed for the murder of six people who had been caught in an accident. Calan didn't do it—he'd never do such a thing, and never thought of doing it, either. But the authorities could see no other suspect. After all, he was suspicious looking, and he carried a small pistol-like laser gun beneath the layers of baggy, worn-out clothing (taken from his father). So the judge sat and gave him a life sentence to Venom for the crimes. Calan had truly hit the bottom of the pit.

The transporter ship had come and left. He was dropped off at a remote area of Venom. His death warrant had been signed already, for no one suspected anyone to live for long there. There were no space ports for space travel—no machinery for travel at all on the planet. The prisoners of Venom were on their own.

Just 23 years old and fresh, Calan wandered for a few days until he found a campfire of men. They saw him and welcomed him in as one of their own. Fire, they explained, was the key to life. Water would be plentiful. But fire was the source. He joined them as a regular citizen of Venom, and after a week or so, they left to go to their usual residence, Fort Vicente. It was a village of other prisoners. The oldest member, Old Garnett, was about 60 and kept his wits about him like they were all he had left. He told the convicts stories of a great city on Venom—one that had been able to withstand any sense of detection by Venom's solar satellites. And it was that day, that February day, only a few weeks after Calan had arrived, that they were leaving Fort Vicente.

Calan climbed into his tent. He shared it with another Katinan fellow the same age as he was, but who had arrived shortly before. He was a "billy goat", as Lylatians generally called people of his racial type. Two smooth horns grew out of his head, slicked backwards like a gelled up hairstyle. His fur was also pointed that direction. His name was Korrigan Ramsey. Korrigan Smeethel Ramsey. His ancestor, so it was said, was Korrigan Smeethel. His parents admired Smeethel for being the first person born on Katina, so they named their son for him.

Korrigan was sitting at the far end of the tent, looking bored. "How long until Old Garnett says we leave?"

"Today, if the weather cooperates," muttered Calan.

"Good," said Ramsey. "I've been bored out of my mind, sitting up here alone. I don't suppose you have something....?"

"No. I just went out to check the torches. Don't think they'll last when the rain hits. Someone will have to waste another match before we can figure out how to keep them lit. I wonder how many there are left...."

Korrigan stretched his arms. "I wish we had some fungus cigarettes here. I've got no energy. And I feel like crap."

"Part of cold turkey, Venom style," said Calan.

The rain started to fall. Korrigan was sorely cursing for his lighter and a pack of the fungus cigarettes. He often did that in his sleep—muttering about them, dreaming about them, etc. He never stopped. Calan figured he had done it at the prison they held him at. It would be likely. Korrigan had been charged with crimes of hacking—he broke into important archives and servers that only top agents in the government were allowed into. And he'd learned just enough from them. No one but Korrigan himself knows how much of the archives he saw before they chucked him to Venom. It was just the fact that he was genius enough to actually break in. No one had ever done that before. No one was likely to do it again.

Korrigan sniffed the air.

"Uhg. I smell something dead."

Calan slowly leaned his head to the opening flap. "Don't see anything."

"Well duh. The smell is faint."

"I'm not going to look for it."

"I'm not either."

The two men looked at each other briefly.

"Look, someone's got to check it out," Korrigan said. "Neither of us will be able to sleep with that smell."

"We might have to. Besides, I'm not going out in the rain."

"It could turn dark before the rain stops. Go out now."

"Ramsey, I'm not doing it."

Korrigan gave a sour look. He ran a hand over his horns and leaned back to stare at the ceiling of the tent. He was thinking. Calan pulled the flap open a little, just to watch the rain. He heard Ramsey shiver a little. He couldn't possibly be cold. It was too warm and muggy for that. Calan looked back at Korrigan, who was huddled up in a furry ball. His clothes were reasonably dirty. He hadn't taken a bath in at least a week. The nearby water spring supplied the drinking water and the bathing water. So they did their best not to abuse it. The wasteland planet of Venom had few areas capable of holding life—which is why they hadn't made contact with any green men yet. Other deadly creatures replaced them.

"You think Garnett will lead us to some volcanic area, or a jungle?" Calan asked, trying to stir up some conversation.

"Volcanic area, if he can. I swear that man wants to lead us straight to hell."

"But we've already done that for him."

"You're right, absolutely right—he's just the tour guide." Korrigan gave a short laugh. "We really did ourselves in, just a few weeks ago. I thought the judge would throw me in jail and swallow the key or something, but I guess not. I guess jail was too good for me."

"I guess so." Calan looked around the tent. So empty.

"It's not like I'll be talking to my parents again, anyway," continued Korrigan. "You should have seen them at my hearing. It looked like Dad was going to shoot himself. Mom about stopped breathing when the judge said I would be exiled to Venom. I must be too dangerous to go to jail."

Calan had to laugh at it. "Yeah, and I'm not? I got charged with the murder of six people. They say I killed them all at the same time."

Korrigan actually laughed at that, which broke out in a coughing fit. His eyes were watery and red by the time he stopped. Calan looked helplessly at the only friend he had.

"You're sick," Calan said blankly.

Korrigan quickly shook his head. "I'm not—it's just a thing, that's all."

"A thing," Calan repeated.

"Yeah," Korrigan said, far too fast to be true. "I've always had it."

Calan stared at him for a moment. "I don't think that's normal. Is that a known disease? Did you catch it outside here?"

"I just said I've always had it."

"But you're lying, you have to be."

"Why do I have to? It's personal. Nothing to worry about." But his voice said otherwise.

Calan thought it best not to pester him any longer about the subject, so he pretended to be fascinated with the flap. He flicked it back and forth, like a lighter. He didn't want Korrigan dying on him. It worried him, since Ramsey wasn't telling him anything about the condition. He'd asked once before, and he got the same answer. The same hollow answer. A lie. It was obvious. The tone of Ramsey's voice said so.

Calan didn't know why he was getting so worked up. Everyone around him was a criminal. They were sent to Venom for a reason. Calan himself was innocent. But everyone else was not. He had to keep reminding himself of that. They were dangerous people. Most of them were killers, usually around some fringe station in the Lylat system, where they were caught fighting and killing other people who got in their way. Murder was a once in a lifetime crime. You were sent to Venom for committing it once, unless you were a soldier. Serving Lylat, of course. Or if you'd just eliminated a threat to the government. Then you'd get excused.

Calan was restless for a while. The rain poured on. In their area, there was a jungle. Most of Venom was covered by a vast wasteland of volcanic valleys and black mountains. The very soil was nasty. Huge canyons and rock formations were scattered throughout the planet. Life existed only in the small patches of jungle by the equator. Exhausting heat cursed it—still, it was much more bearable than any other part of the planet. The red sky was getting to him, almost as much as the humidity and the smell of something foul. He could smell it the moment he was dumped off.

"Korrigan," Calan said, shaking his friend, for he was drifting to sleep. "Ramsey, don't fall asleep on me. I need someone to watch for me while I re-light the torches. C'mon, man."

Korrigan stirred and yawned. "All right all right...." He sounded annoyed.

Calan opened the flap again to peer out. The rain was getting lighter. A good sign.

"Old Garnett will probably give one of his speeches tonight," said Calan, shutting the flap again. "No doubt it will be one of those boring ones."

"I've been here for nearly two months," Korrigan said grumpily, "and I know exactly how Garnett is going to do it. Lucky bastard, you are. They didn't keep you in jail for long. I spent nearly three months before I came here just so they could figure out what to do with me. And that damn prison was no picnic, I'll say that much." He gave a grunt. "And now my head hurts again."

"You're too reliable on those cigarettes."

"I am not either."

"Yes you are—you're always complaining."

"Quiet, Porter. Won't belong before you sit there, waking up in the middle of the night, begging for something to ease it all. This humidity doesn't help. At least Katina had some nice cool breezes...."

"Corneria is better off, though. It's almost never hot there, nor is it ever too cold."

"Yeah, those damn Cornerians get all the best, don't they? Never experienced the Katinan winter...."

"Fortuna is worse off."

"Fortuna has underground cities, Calan. So what? It's always warmer down there." He dipped his hand in the nearby bucket and wiped it over his face. "It's too hot in here."

"I tried going to Garnett about it," said Calan, feeling useless. "He said that the new fort should have a doctor."

"Doctor," snorted Korrigan. "He talks about 'doctors'. Listen, my mother _was_ a doctor. I know about the stuff. There aren't doctors on Venom, and if there are, they're just the murderin' kind. Ones that'll poison you or murder you in your sleep. They'll kill you for your clothes and supplies before they give you even a good diagonstic. Why would they waste their time saving someone else when they need to save themselves? No, man."

Calan heard someone moving outside. "I think I'll get those torches re-lit."

He grabbed a match and the lighting torch, and headed out. It was not totally done precipitating—there were sprinkles here and there. Calan went to the closest torch and struck the match across the wood. As he began to light the other torches surrounding the camp, he watched the main fire, centered in the very middle. Old Garnett was sitting on a log, watching the flames burn the wood to ashes. Next to him was a young man, Abraham Grissom.

He was just 27 and already notorious for a nasty brawl in a Fortunan bar, the murder of an austere Scipian senator, the robbery of a Haissan lord's precious possessions (namely his sword and various jewels), blowing up a special fuel train in northern Aldaran, theft of a necklace known to belong to an old Adratian pharaoh, and other crimes. Grissom didn't just get thrown here, he literally dropped from the sky. He was escaping some rogue fighter pilots—the Star Fox team—and they shot him down as he entered the atmosphere. And that was how Abraham Grissom ended up at Venom.

As soon as he finished, Calan dipped the torch into the bucket and sat down by Grissom. He looked at his other good friend—Abraham was a classy type of guy. He had a movie star smile, electric blue eyes that seemed luminescent when he was happy (or furious), silkish black fur, and everything a handsome Cornerian panther could have.

"Abraham," said Calan.

"Calan," nodded Grissom.

Calan couldn't imagine how a guy like Abraham Grissom would be such a badass. It still puzzled him.

"Nice day."

"Yeah. Nice." Grissom looked around the camp. "Say, Garnett, when are we leaving? I'm getting bored of this place."

"Soon," said Garnett. "Whenever the next prisoner comes." He had a look in his eye that suggested he was expecting one. Abraham noticed this.

"What's that mean? Do you know one?"

"I might," said Garnett darkly.

"Then spit it out, old man, I'm not a psychic."

"Heard it on the news," grunted Garnett.

Abraham and Calan exchanged looks.

"What do you mean, 'news'?" demanded Abraham. "You get Channel 5 around here?"

"Keep your mouth shut, boy," snapped Garnett. And that was the end of the conversation.

Grissom fidgeted with a stick. Then they heard a roar in the distance. It was close. Closer than it should be. It was the sound of a draytan. The draytan was like a lion, only without the mane and sharp claws. It did have paws, and a tail, but its fur was the color of neon green. It had darker green stripes all over its body, and was perfect camouflage in the jungle surrounding. The draytan was a vicious thing—it gave calls of roars, which usually sounded like something dying, only angry and dying at the same time, and much louder. It had venomous fangs that could kill a person just with one bite. The only thing it was afraid of was fire. And that was the reason fire was life on Venom. Fire was the only thing that could protect them against the draytan, since they had no real weapons.

Korrigan's head peeped out of the tent flap. His eyes looked dilated but also alert. "Did you hear that?" he asked, with a slight crack in his voice.

Calan nodded, and looked around cautiously. He quietly snuck over to the farthest torch and stood by it. Abraham looked warily around but did not move. Old Garnett looked content with staring at the fire. Then they heard the roar again.

Calan had in mind to run into the tent and hide, but that would do no good. There was a draytan loose around this area, and they couldn't afford to have it kill off the prisoners, Garnett said. He always said that he couldn't afford it. It puzzled Calan.

He beckoned Abraham to come with him, since Korrigan didn't seem like he wanted to come out all that badly. Besides, the experience Grissom had had could be useful. Abraham grabbed a torch of his own and set out, with a dagger in one hand. The dagger was one of the few things that survived the crash.

Yet another roar made shivers creep up Calan's spine. He glanced at Abraham, who was slowly making his way into the jungle. His eyes were wild and alert.

Calan broke off a limb from a dead tree and held the long stick in his hands. It was a thick one, and heavy at that. He shot Abraham a look. "Abe, you go left, I'll go right."

Abraham nodded and went to the left side. He disappeared into the jungle. Calan went off to the right, praying that God would let him die another way, something more peaceful....Then he heard a roar once again. And a yell. Abraham's voice.

Calan tore through the grass and trees, trying to find the voice. Then something pounced in front of him. Calan almost fell backwards. Instinctively he held the stick up like a barrier. It was the draytan, right in front of him. The neon green lion with darker green stripes like a tiger, the thin, venomous fangs sticking out, and the large paws. Calan didn't breathe. He'd forgotten how. Abraham was behind the draytan all of a sudden, yelling. Calan yelled too, and the draytan became distracted with Calan. Abraham lept onto the draytan's back from behind and sunk his dagger into the back of its neck. It gave a roar that was louder and more terrible than anything the men had heard before. But it wasn't finished. Calan hit it on the head with his rod, and it staggered backward. Abraham stabbed it again, this time in the side. The draytan bucked Abraham off, and he landed hard. The draytan jumped on Abraham, but not before he'd lifted his dagger one last time and stabbed it in the stomach. That was all it needed. The draytan was finally silent and limp. Abraham shoved its heavy body off of him and wiped the blood off in its fur. Some blood had gotten on his pants and his torn shirt.

"You hurt?" asked Calan.

"No, but I've got a mighty headache thanks to that furball," muttered Abraham.

"Let's go a bit further to find the stream, so you can get cleaned up," suggested Calan. The two of them set out farther into the jungle.

The stream was the source of life, other than fire. Calan bent down by the edge and dipped his hands into it, bringing back a handful of cold, clear water. It was probably the only cold thing on Venom. Abraham sat by the edge and took off his pants, showing off navy blue boxers. He dipped them in the stream, and began to rub where the blood had stained. Streaks of red flowed through the water. Calan gave him some peace and walked along the stream until Abraham was no longer in his sight. Then Calan heard a familiar noise. A starship noise. The sound of its engine. There was only one. The prison ship, perhaps? No, it was smaller than that. A starfighter.

Calan ran to find the starfighter. Maybe it was his rescuer, and that they weren't so doomed after all. He was running with the rod, when he heard a shout. Calan held the rod tightly in both hands. Suddenly something sliced the rod in half. The impact bent both pieces out of Calan's hands. He staggered backward, and noticed a man standing in front of him, with what looked like an iron bar in his hands. He was a wolf Cornerian, by the looks of it, and he had an eyepatch on his left eye. He was dressed like a rogue pilot, with black pants and a black shirt on, and a friendly looking Zion-3 laser pistol in his gun holder on his also black belt. He looked like some badass rogue pilot, that was for sure.

All Calan could do was stare. The wolf looked at the pieces of wood on the ground and laughed. "No match for my iron rod, eh? I found it back there. How would iron end up on Venom, I wonder?" he said with a laugh, as if he knew something Calan didn't. His voice was smooth and actually pleasant to listen to, masculine but not rough.

"Who are you and what do you want?" demanded Calan.

"Wolf O'Donnell, leader of the Star Wolf team. And who are you?"

"Calan Porter...fugitive." Calan couldn't think of another word for it. Prisoner, maybe. "So what's the 'Star Wolf team'?"

"Team of some renegade pilots. Actually, there's only two of us right now," said Wolf. "My good comrade Leon is scouting out the area. He'll be back, don't you worry."

"Why would I worry?" Calan asked coolly.

"Because, bud, we're the only pilots to set foot out here in a decade—at least, illegally. Don't they dump you suckers off while you're still in the air, and let you keep the parachute?"

"They land and shove us out," said Calan in the same tone. "Look, if there's something you want, hurry up and take it."

"No, I don't want anything. Yet." He looked around. "Nice place."

"Yeah."

"How long you been here?"

"A few weeks. I lost track of the days. My friend Korrigan writes on a tree nearby, putting in tally marks for every day. He's been here two months, and in jail three months before that."

"Surprised you two made it that long. Nasty creatures in these jungles, and then the wasteland on most of Venom is lifeless. Well, glad to see you're still alright."

Calan lightened up a little, hoping that Wolf would perhaps get some supplies.

"Yeah, I guess. Do you have any supplies, by any chance?"

Wolf let out another laugh. "Supplies? Yeah, back on our little underground house at Titania. There's one Cornerian base on Titania, but that's all. Nasty desert planet. Leon's got a nice country house near Cuzco, Fortuna. We do a lot of ship repairs and such there, since we haven't got a mothership to deploy out of." He gave a fatherly grin at the starship behind him. "That baby's my pride and joy. I designed it with two of my best friends, Josiah Soren and Monica Zarek. We drew the blueprints, got the parts, and built. I know the inside and outside of this ship like my house. We called it the Wolfen. She's barely a year old, but a bit dirty. It's tough to clean it from space debris. See how it's got black streaks on it? Hits from some Haissan starfighters. They didn't like us flying too near their border. But the Wolfen's like family to me."

"It's very nice," said Calan politely. And he meant it.

"It is," agreed Wolf. "But we'd had another group to rival us. The Star Fox team...James McCloud, that son of a gun. He's a damn good pilot, but he's also a rival."

Calan's fur was standing up on his back and on his neck. "I've heard of them. Claim to be protectors of Corneria."

"They are. Leon and I are just a bunch of nobodies. I was born and raised on Katina, but I went to the Corneria Academy to earn my wings. Now it doesn't matter. Listen, I'll tell you stuff when we reach your camp. Leon will find his way there."

"Alright," agreed Calan. He was interested in this guy. Wolf O'Donnell. Even the very name seemed familiar. Why?

Abraham brushed his way over to the two men, and his eyes widened when he saw Wolf standing by Calan and the starfighter sitting there. His jaw was dropping.

"Who—?"

"He'll explain later, Abe. Let's get back to camp."

The three men walked to the camp, through the great jungle. Calan couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe these men could offer some way out. But they had one-man starfighters and no transport in sight. Could they really get a transporter ship through without being stopped by starships by Area 6 or Bolse? Calan didn't think so.

They came to the camp, looking sweaty and disgruntled. Only Wolf looked healthy. The men and few women at the camp looked gaunt. Calan knew that he and Abe were no picnic to look at. Dirty. Starved a little. Scared of losing fire, water, food, and shelter. Scared of draytans. Calan had mud on his worn-out shoes, and Grissom had blood still stained on his pants. Even so, Abe was still able to keep his good looks.

People stared at Wolf like they hadn't seen anything like him.

"'Nother addition to our cause?" asked a man.

"Who's that fellow?" asked another.

"Hey guy!" shouted a woman. "Who are you?"

Wolf ignored all of them. Korrigan was outside sitting with Old Garnett when Calan and Abraham lead Wolf to them. People started to gather around the fire in a circle. Calan told Wolf to sit on a stump near Garnett. Then he and Grissom sat down. Korrigan looked at Calan and asked, "Who's this guy?"

"A new friend," answered Calan. "I hope."

"Somewhat," said Wolf. He looked at Garnett. "You're the leader of this fine establishment, right?"

Garnett waved off the sarcasm and said, "I am. Name's Ray. Raymond Garnett. But you can call me Ray." The old bear Cornerian held out his hand. Wolf shook it and smiled. "Wolf O'Donnell. You can call me Wolf or Captain O'Donnell, doesn't matter to me. My partner is Leon Powalski. He should arrive here shortly; I had him scout out the area in his starfighter. We're a renegade team."

"I can tell by your clothes," said Garnett. "A pilot. A Katinan pilot, judging by your slight accent. You must have spent time in Corneria, since it's worn off a little."

"You're right. I was born and raised in Katina. Leon was born and raised in Corneria. He's a bit older...33 years old."

"Is that so," said Garnett thoughtfully.

"That Cornerian scientist will be dumped off here soon enough," Wolf said randomly.

Garnett became alert again. "As I expected."

"How could you expect it? You have no communication here."

"Oh, we do," said Garnett. "Or rather, we will."

Wolf stared at Garnett for a moment. "I understand...so, the rumors are true...."

"They are," answered Garnett. "If you stay with us, you'll see for yourself."

"That's why I'm here!" Wolf said with a grin. "You'll find that rumors like this one are well known in bars on distant planets. And trust me, I've been there."

"I'm sure you have." Garnett stood up. "You and I will talk some more, and your partner should arrive soon. When he does, you may join us in the evening meal, and tomorrow we set out for the city."

"I'll take my starfighter there. Point me in the direction and I'll go."

Garnett studied Wolf. "Very well. Let's take a walk, first, and wait for your fellow pilot."

They walked off to the far side of camp. Calan was disappointed not to hear more of Wolf's story, but he could not do anything about it. Maybe they'd meet again, wherever they were going in the morning, and he'd meet that friend of Wolf's.


	2. Saturnalia

A little Note:

Okay, I have chapter two right below, but since I didn't add an intro to chapter one, I'll do it here.

I like to write long, detailed stories, but I also try to add the elements that make a great story into mine. This story was based off of something floating around in my head for quite a long time. I felt I had to put it down in my word processor. After my brother snuck into my files and read it, he suggested putting it up here. Yay! So I did.

I'd appreciate it if reviewers would criticize in a kind manner. There's nothing I hate more than a mean bastard ranting on about a person's style and story. As a writer I aim to please other people and myself, so I try to improve with every chapter and every new story. This is the first one that I'm really satisfied with, and I hope it all turns out the way I want it to by the last word of the last chapter.

So, enjoy!

Chapter 2:

_Saturnalia_

Calan hated walking in his shoes. They were getting worn out, and with each step he took, it hurt a little more. He had a grimaced look on his face. Korrigan was looking at him. _What's he looking at?_ Calan thought. _Ramsey ain't so peachy himself. Don't know why he's suddenly interested in how I feel_.

"What?" Calan asked Korrigan irritably.

"Nothing, man," Korrigan said, "but you look like you're in pain. And a lot of it."

"It's my shoes," Calan grumbled. "They're too worn out, and my feet are all sore. I've never done so much walkin' in my life. Why couldn't I go with Captain O'Donnell?" he asked rhetorically.

"The so-called city is not too far from here," Korrigan said.

"So-called?" Garnett asked, with his eyebrows raised. He'd been eavesdropping, and walking with great ease, for an old man. "Do I look as if I am lying to you, Korrigan?"

"No, but I can't see how it's possible. A city on Venom?"

"It's possible, and you will see it. It is underground, of course. Captain O'Donnell and his friend Commander Palowski believe me, and yet they have not been to Venom before. Do not be so shallow, Korrigan."

Korrigan hated being told off by the wise and ancient Garnett.

"So, what's this city's name, anyway?" he asked hotly, trying to stir up conversation again.

"I will tell you when we get there."

Korrigan didn't speak to Garnett for the rest of the trip.

The prisoners had walked many miles. At last Garnett came to a peculiar looking silo in the middle of a clearing. He tapped the button on the outside and muttered something. It opened. The prisoners stared in wonder. What in the galaxy was a silo doing in the middle of a jungle on Venom?

"Now there's a ladder leading down, so you'll need to put your bags around your body so you can climb down. That, or you can wait until some of us have climbed down and throw your things to us. Everyone follow me."

Garnett, though at least 60 something years old, descended down the ladder with good speed. Calan's bag was already slung around his shoulder, so it would be no problem. He followed Garnett down, and with every step he took, it felt as if he'd hit a blister. Wincing, he kept climbing down into the darkness.

"It'll be dark for a while," called Garnett, "but just keep climbing down."

Calan was determined not to slip and fall on the old man. He'd never catch the end of it, and he could seriously hurt the only tour guide they had.

They saw a light coming at the bottom. It had gotten so dark that Calan could barely see the top. The lights were brighter, and soon enough he was stepping off to a small room. There were red emergency lights flashing—but the room was silent, except for the sound of an air vent blowing.

"Where is this?" Calan asked Garnett, as others piled down.

"The entrance to the underground city," answered the old man, holding his wooden cane in one hand and a bag in the other. "My home."

"_You live_—?"

"Shhh, boy, not so loud. Wait until we get there."

Garnett lead them all to a large door. He leaned toward a speaker panel in the wall and said, "This is Garnett. I've got the next batch, and although many are new, I believe they are ready."

A masculine voice said back, "You're cleared, enter when ready."

Garnett turned to face the prisoners. "Welcome to the underground city of Venom, the peace and happiness of such a harsh world, the grand city of Saturnalia."

The door opened and suddenly they saw lights and hallways full of people. Some turned and stared. There were men and women of all ages walking past the stores and shops by the entrance. A sign pointed to the hospital, which appeared to be in view. The huge underground clearing showed a square with a statue in front of it. It was an explorer, one of the first to set foot on Venom. Hawkeye Morrison.

Calan had hardly seen anything like Saturnalia. It was a strange name for a city. He'd never heard of it. And something else was odd—that feeling of cool air...air conditioning? He had forgotten the feeling. It was wonderful.

Garnett spoke again. "You see, I didn't arrive at Venom thirty years ago. That was a lie. I was born in Saturnalia, the third generation of parents who'd arrived on Venom earlier. I've never left this planet, as that is not a good idea. Saturnalia is hidden from all outsiders, and no one but Saturnalians themselves know it is here. Now, Captain O'Donnell may have heard it from the legends passed down in Scipian families, the tale of a great underground city on a planet of lava, volcanoes, and wastelands. He must be at least part Scipian. There is no other way our good friend might have heard it otherwise. He will ask me questions himself regarding the nature of the city. I'll be meeting him with the mayor at the city council building. The rest of you will staying in hotels until I can get you settled. I'll give you the newcomer cards, and you'll stay at the hotels for free. There they'll give you rations until our services can settle you in. Ah, there's Jeremy!"

A freckled tabby dressed in a strange uniform came over to Garnett. He looked like he was about 16 years old.

"Jeremy, you'll be taking everyone except for Mr. Porter and Mr. Grissom."

Jeremy looked at the prisoners. "Lookin' dirty and horrible, sir. Rehabilitation is the first thing on their list. Sure you don't want those two you suggested?"

"I'll handle them myself, Jeremy."

Jeremy shrugged. "If you say so, sir. All right everyone, follow me! I'll be taking you to the check-in center near the hotels, and there you'll get your Blue Card! Now, this is your lifeline for now, so don't lose it because the city doesn't want to make loads of extras for you less-responsible men and women out there!" He went on talking and leading the way.

Garnett beckoned Calan and Abraham the other direction. Calan caught Korrigan's eye as he left. Envy.

Calan admired the marble floor he was walking on. That was near the statue. When they reached the large, wide hallways, the floor became something like thin carpet with who knows what underneath. His feet still hurt from all the walking, but he decided to put up with it. Now he'd at least have a life worth living.

Garnett lead them to an interesting building. Once more there were marble tiles, and there were desks near the doors. Secretaries kept chattering through on their telephones (no doubt reaching other people underground) and other people in suits and ties were talking, sometimes yelling, to each other. Garnett went into a room on the right, labeled "Conference Room" above the doors. He pushed his way in, and gave a small wave with his cane to Calan and Abraham. They hurried in.

The conference room was bare except for a square shape of tables and chairs to go with them. There was a man sitting at one of the tables, a Cornerian otter with silky looking brown fur. He seemed to have been doing paperwork. Near him sat Wolf and a chameleon Cornerian who could only be Leon Palowski.

"Mayor!" Garnett called.

The mayor looked up. "Oh, I didn't even hear you all come in! Sit down, sit down...."

Calan and Abraham picked a spot on the corner, close to Wolf and Leon. Garnett sat on the other side of the mayor.

"My name is Forrest Tucker," he said, leaning over the table and exchanging a handshake with each of them. "I'm the mayor of Saturnalia."

"Calan Porter."

"Abraham Grissom."

"Good, good," the mayor said quickly.

"I thought they'd be very reliable, since both claim to be innocent. Abraham and Calan killed another draytan this morning. Calan is the innocent party. And this man is a pilot."

"Oh Ray," sighed the mayor, "but what good are pilots these days? Saturnalia has no use—"

"But when the scientist comes, won't they?"

Garnett and Mayor Tucker stared at each other.

Tucker said, "I wish you'd stop giving hints like that. Are you telepathic like the rumors suggest? Can you get premonitions of the future?"

Garnett nodded his head. "They are more than rumors, and I don't believe that you, as one of my most trusted people, would doubt them."

"So what, you've been sensing that some looney scientist is coming? What difference does that make?"

"It makes all the difference in the world, if you knew what I know."

"Then tell me, Ray, don't leave it out."

"It is safer if I don't."

The mayor looked uncomfortable. "Fine." He looked at Wolf and at Leon. "So, you're part of a team...what was the name?"

"Star Wolf," answered Leon. "It's a renegade team of myself and Wolf."

"Is that so? And how is the outside world? What's going on? Is there anything outside you can tell us? History documents? Scientific breakthroughs? Anything at all? Weapons, perh—?"

"Forrest!" Garnett interrupted. "You will be updated in due time."

The mayor looked clearly annoyed. He turned to Wolf and Leon again.

"Well," he went on, "I apologize for not speaking much to you before these men arrived. I had to be sure you were who you said you were. So, now that I know, could you perhaps tell your stories?"

Wolf and Leon exchanged glances.

"I'll start," volunteered Wolf. "I was born and raised at Rosier City, Katina. When I was sixteen I went to the Corneria City Academy to train as a pilot. It was my dream and had been fulfilled. Two years later, after studying hard and taking tests, I finally recieved my wings to join the Cornerian Air Force. I'm surprised I didn't get kicked out over those two years—and believe me, I was close at points.

"After I'd left the Academy, I was ready to join the United Cornerian Space Force. I didn't really want to all that bad, and so I joined up with two of my best friends, Josiah Soren and Monica Zarek to build a starfighter—customized and everything. We built the Wolfen months later. I'm the only pilot of the group, but Josiah and Monica thought they'd chip in and help me. So they did, and soon enough I was jetting around. It took a few upgrades and repairs, since there were flaws, but we got it under control. I took the blueprints and everything with me when I left.

"I met Leon here while visiting Josiah on the Caiman Islands of Corneria. Turned out that he was a pilot trying to find work without joining the U.C.S.F.. I told him that he could be my man if he didn't mind getting into a bit of trouble, because where I was going, it would be a lot. Leon said he'd do it, and so we were off. I went to Josiah and Monica, asking them to build another one. I built two extras after that, just in case. Never can have too many ships, right?

"Leon and I were out of Corneria as soon as they were all finished and tested. We became good friends, and soon knew each other as good as I know my Wolfen. The two of us chose a team name, and it was Star Wolf, because I'd wanted to be the leader. Leon didn' t mind. We went to other solar systems, cooking up trouble, all in about a year's time. Then I said to Leon, 'Let's find that legendary city on Venom. We can do it, we're in starfighters, and those idiots don't pay attention anyhow.' So we left. And here we are. Turns out the rumors were true."

"Rumors?" asked the mayor. "Where did you hear those?"

"My cousin. My Scipian cousin." Wolf ran his fingers through the fur on his head. "Octavian was a fool to chase me down. Leon and I were at a bar at Cuzco, Fortuna about two years ago, when we'd first started. While I was in the Academy, I found out that my father was Scipian. He had changed his name to O'Donnell, but it was really Alexander, Marcus Alexander, the son of Scipian nobles back on Scipio. Octavian was my oldest uncle's son, and was about a year older than me. Well, we were at this bar, and who walks in? Octavian Alexander and some of his Scipian friends. Leon and I were just sitting quietly. So Octavian comes up to me, bashes us, and says that we're up to no good and that I'm the scum of the family. I asked him what he was doing there and that I didn't want anything to do with him. I hadn't seen him since my days at the Academy, see. Octavian said he was on his way to Venom to see the Underground City. He commented that it was folly for me to go. I said something profane to him, and Octavian pulled out his gun and aimed at my forehead. I told him that I wasn't afraid of him. Leon stood up and tried to distract him. I pulled out my gun in time to shoot the bastard, but not before he got me in the eye. It hurt so bad I could hardly use the other one to see, and Leon had to herd me out. There was a bad blizzard that day, and we had to travel in it for thirty miles to try and find a doctor far away from Cuzco. I must've gone unconcious after that, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed. Leon told me that I'd killed Octavian and he had to lie to the doctor and say it was an accident. The doctor treated the eye but said I'd never be able to see out of it again. A day later I walked out of the hospital, determined to get out of Fortuna. It hasn't been easy, these past few years...."

Mayor Tucker was soaking in the information. "Of course not! What a great story! And I assume that's the same eyepatch you started out with?"

"It is."

"Amazing!"

"Thank you, Mayor. Like I said, it's been rough."

"I can only imagine...well, Commander Palowski, what's your story?"

Leon stretched his arms before speaking. "I was born and raised on the Caiman Islands of Corneria, where I spent the majority of my life living. I also went to the academy in Corneria City, but this was at least seventeen years ago. I have no extraordinary tales to tell like Wolf's, except for little adventures we've been on together. I rarely got in trouble at school, but back at the islands, I was something of a celebrity. My father made surf boards for a living, and my mother worked at an office building in Nurook Valley. I have a younger sister, Kim, and...that's about all."

The mayor looked disappointed that Leon didn't share anything more. Perhaps the commander was nervous about telling more than he had to. Calan also thought there was more to it than what Leon was telling.

"All right," Mayor Tucker, regaining the grin on his face, "I guess you two have had some good times together."

"True," said Leon.

"We're good friends and partners, but we only have two people. That's not much of a team, is it?"

"No, I suppose not..."

"Sir?" Calan said.

"Yes, young man?" the mayor asked, even though he was probably only twenty years older than Calan was.

"Might we—?"

"Go to your rooms? Of course!" Mayor Tucker pressed a button and right away a man in a uniform appeared. "Show these two to their rooms. Mr. O'Donnell, Mr. Palowski...if you'll remain...."

It was noon the next day when Calan finally emerged from his room to talk with Wolf. It turned out that Wolf's age was actually 20, three years younger than Calan. He was surprised. Wolf acted older, like a man in his 30's. Probably why Leon thought partnership was alright with this guy. Calan wished he could have Wolf's brain. He was witty and sly, and had a way of making people do what he wants them to do. Calan knew there was more to Wolf than what he saw on the outside and inside—a part hidden so deep that it would take the sharpest of blades to cut to it. Only a person of great power could get through to him.

Leon had little surface. He liked to keep to himself. Sometimes he'd let up and talk about things in life, but most of the time he kept the silence. Calan wanted someone to break his shell as well, to smash it into a thousand pieces so he could talk with the real Leon. It was obvious there was more to him also.

Wolf was lounging at the pool, near the jacuzis. He seemed almost asleep, with his eyes heavy and his body still. Calan sat down and sank his feet into the jacuzi. The water felt good on his blistered, sore feet.

"How you doing?" he asked Wolf.

Wolf grunted. "Fine."

"Like this place?"

"It's all right. Why?"

"I dunno. Curious. I didn't ask Leon. He doesn't talk much."

"Not to strangers."

"Xenophobic?"

"No, just not a huge talking person. When he does talk to a stranger, he's being totally serious and it's probably to warn the idiot or whoever to back off."

Calan pictured it in his head. "I see."

"So I'd not talk to him much, if I were you."

"Why?"

"Might pull a fast one on you. Stab you in the back when you're sleeping."

"What?!"

"Just kidding!" laughed Wolf. "Jeez laweez, man!"

"Oh," said Calan, starting to laugh weakly, "okay, yeah, joking."

"So," Wolf said, now looking as if ready to start a long conversation, "what were you wanting to talk about?"

"Nothing in particular. You're just a twenty-something, aren't you?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, I just thought...well I'm older than you, but I feel dumber."

Wolf laughed again. "Dumber? What, am I a genius or something? Mr. Porter, you deeply overestimate me."

"No, I don't think so, Wolf. Really."

"Okay, whatever you say, bud. I'm just Wolf O'Donnell, no one special."

Calan wanted to say that he _was_ someone special. He and Leon were the only two people from the outside who had seen Saturnalia without being exiles. He was a pilot who could get them out of there, a leader of a rogue team. And he was Calan's ticket out. If only he could squeeze in the cargo area...was there room? Probably not. He'd die in there, anyway. Calan sighed. He didn't dare ask Wolf. What could Wolf do? Steal a transport? To get a bunch of criminals out? They deserved their exile. But not Calan. He alone was the innocent party. So he'd have a reason to get out. If he did...he could stay with relatives in Adratia, and the Lylatian governments would never know of it. They were all too busy with controlling territories that they would never notice someone leaving Venom. This much was true.

Wolf looked at Calan. "Something wrong?"

"Huh?" Calan snapped out of it. "Oh, no, nothing's wrong."

"Good. You looked like you might cry or something."

"I did? Just thinking is all."

"Uh huh. Well, I'd better go find Leon and see how he's doing. Haven't seen him all afternoon."

"Sure."

Calan found Korrigan's room dimly lit later that night. He walked in quietly, only to find Korrigan laying on the bed, watching TV. It was a news channel from Corneria. Calan guessed the Saturnalians were able to receive satillite signals from planets far away. Korrigan's eyes were drooping every few seconds.

"Korrigan? You awake?"

"Yeah."

"Want to talk?"

"I guess. What's up?"

Calan sat down on the edge of the bed. "I think we could sneak into the cargo space in Wolf and Leon's starfighters."

Korrigan looked at him sharply. "Are you insane? We'd never fit in there, and if we did, we'd run out of oxygen before we got past Bolse! You know there is no air in little compartments like that."

"It's our only hope."

"Yeah, and our last." Korrigan focused back on the TV.

"Ramsey, listen to me. We can't stay here. We belong back on Katina. Or at least off this planet."

"So?"

"Do you know what they call us, Ramsey? The Saturnalians call us the Outsiders. Why? Because we're from the outside. These people have never left this city. They are in isolation. No one knows they are alive. No one will ever know, either. It's no life."

"It's no life back at the camp."

"And it's the same here, only there's more stuff! Don't you see?"

"I don't. But I do know if you don't get your ass away from the TV I'm gonna kick it."

Calan moved away from the TV, unaware that he had stood up during this little argument.

"Have it your way," Calan muttered as he left the room.


	3. The Mirror of Echoes

Chapter 3:

_The Mirror of Echoes_

Saturnalia, Venom

February 4, 2668

Calan was wide awake as he walked down the hallways to the science lab with Abraham Grissom. Truth be told, he actually enjoyed Abe's company more than Korrigan's now. Korrigan was too busy watching TV and commenting on the Outside World. He wanted to be shut up in his room, complaining of his situation. It was selfish, but then again, Korrigan had spent five months doing absolutely nothing. He did deserve it, no doubt about that. Korrigan didn't want to know anything about Saturnalia. Just about how to succeed in a little revenge. But Calan wanted to get to know the people and their city better—escaping would be so much easier if he studied it first.

"Wolf and Leon told me they'd wait for us in one of the science labs. I hope we find the right one." Abraham quickened his pace.

"Why so fast?"

"Anxious."

"Why?"

Abe said, "Can't you see? If I can get some funding or whatever, maybe get tight with someone at his dump, I can get my ass off of this planet and out of this system."

Calan laughed shortly. "How you gonna do that, Grissom? Put together scraps from the local dumpster?"

"I'm Abraham Joseph Grissom. You know me." He flashed his star smile and slowed a little.

"I should just call you A.J."

"Can't do that. That's what my mom used to call me."

"A.J. honey—"

"Oh shut up, Porter."

The men turned another corner and came up to two large, sliding doors. They opened and the two found themselves in a room with beakers and vials, paintings on various places of the walls, cabinets with some doors hanging wide open, and a young woman standing by herself in a white scientist's jacket. She had goggles on and was pouring a strange neon orange liquid from one vial to the other by a square-shaped device. No sign of Wolf or Leon. The door on the opposite side of the room had a poster that read, "What problem will you solve today?"

"Excuse me...." Calan started.

The woman jumped and almost spilled the orange liquid on the counter. She looked in their direction and sighed in relief. She poured the rest of it into the vial and set the two aside. Slipping off her goggles, she walked toward them. The woman was a German shepard, by the looks of it.

"What can I do for you boys?" she asked in a silky but tough voice.

Calan and Abe exchanged glances.

"We're sorry to disturb you—"

"We're looking for a wolf and a chameleon, you seen them?"

The woman laughed. "Does it look like it? I've been stuck in this lab for hours. Name's India Harris. Dr. Harris." She held out a hand. "You are—?"

"Calan Porter."

"Abraham Grissom."

"Nice to meet you both. What do you do here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your occupations."

"Oh." Calan paused. "We're...um...we're not from Saturnalia."

Dr. Harris smiled. "I see. Convicts? Well, you're fellow citizens now. When did you arrive?"

"The other day."

"Okay, what did you do before you ended up on Venom?"

Calan looked at Abe. "I actually didn't have much of a job at the time. I still had to save money to go to college, you know? My parents died, so I went to Javian City to get some cash. Then I got framed for the murder of six people. And that's why I'm here."

Abe said, "I'm innocent too. An innocent pilot."

"I'm sure you two are innocent. Just let me know before you pull a knife on me, that way I'll have time to scream," she said sarcastically. Abe and Calan exchanged looks. She did not take them seriously.

"But I can say," the doctor went on, "that if you don't get out of my lab, I'll have the authorities come after you." She smiled and made a finger motion to the door.

They slowly started to walk out. Dr. Harris suddenly called out, "Wait! Leopard-boy!"

Calan stopped and turned around. Abe ignored him and went out into the hallway and back to his room.

"Sorry if we got off on a bad start," she apologized. "It's just that I'm not used to having guys walk in my lab when I'm working."

"You don't have to apologize, Doctor."

"Please, call me India."

"All right...India." Calan liked saying the name.

India gave a little laugh. "Well, I'll talk to you sometime. Okay?"

"Sure."

Calan left feeling a little better than he did five minutes ago. There was something about her that made him smile. He wished he could give her the smile that Abe could. But she had called after Calan, not him.

He remembered that he was suppost to meet Wolf and Leon in another room. Calan slapped his head. How could he forget? He was late now. He scooted into another lab room and found that it really wasn't a lab at all. It was another conference room. And luckily Wolf and Leon were in it, sitting by Abe and two people in uniforms Calan didn't know. He slowly walked to the middle of the room.

Wolf stood up. "Calan!" he exclaimed. "Captain and Corporal, this is Calan Porter. I met him near the campsite with Grissom here. Calan, this is Captain Chaya Merrick, and that's Corporal Quincy Lafayette. Both are enlisted in the Saturnalian Army, and soon-to-be Air Force."

_Air Force?_

"Nice to meet you," Calan greeted politely. The two did the same. The captain was a female of average height. She was thin but looked quite strong. She was a dingo, by the looks of it. Her golden fur gave off a mysterious shine. Calan found he was entranced by it. The corporal, on the other hand, was a scrawny coyote male of average height. He was thin also, but had an unhealthy look about him. Perhaps he didn't get enough to eat, like the fugitives.

"So...you two are joining the Air Force?" Calan began, hoping to spark some good conversation. "How does that work?"

"Easy. We go above the surface," said Captain Merrick brightly.

"Quit being a smartass, Captain," muttered the corporal.

"Shh, Corporal. What planet do you come from, Mr. Porter?"

"Call me Calan. I'm from Katina."

"Katina? Amazing...." Merrick breathed. "I've only been above ground a couple of times in my life...tell me—is the sky blue there?"

Calan thought for a moment. "At times. It's mostly a pinkish color due to the clouds. The ground is reddish-brown, but it's very fertile."

"Have you been to Corneria? What's it like there?" The captain was fishing for all the information she could get, and Calan knew he wouldn't hear the end of it for as long as he stood there.

"I've never been to Corneria, no. But Abe has."

Captain Merrick looked at Abraham with wide eyes.

"The skies are blue, the grass is green, the clouds are white," confirmed Abe in one breath.

"Wow! I'm sorry if I sound odd—it's just that the notion of being outside fascinates me. We don't get to go above surface too much. Too risky. Anyway, I guess—"

The door swung open. It was Jeremy, looking more freckled than before, came in huffing. He bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Sorry Commander O'Donnell, sir," he managed, looking at Wolf, "but Mr. Garnett and Mayor Tucker have asked that you and the others in here join him in the mayor's office. They've got someone they want you to see."

"Did he say the name?" asked Wolf.

"Oikonny, sir. Andross Oikonny."

He was an aging man, with a grayish-white beard growing on his face, a face filled with a gaunt look and something devilish in his eyes. A primate, judging by his features. He had dark brown eyes that looked hollow. He dressed as if he'd once been someone important, maybe in the medical field. Calan didn't know what to think when they went to the mayor's office. They had filed in the room and sat down without a word. No one wanted to speak. They'd leave that for Tucker and Old Garnett to do. Calan couldn't figure out what was so important, and what this man had to do with anything. What had Jeremy called him? Oikon? Okon? Okonee?

Mayor Tucker sat down behind his desk and shooed the guards away. "So, Mister—?"

"Dr. Oikonny. Andross Oikonny." The man revealed a deep, penetrating voice. It almost made Calan melt from his chair.

"Yes, yes...Garnett says things about you, Doctor. Would you care to hear them?"

"I would."

"He says you are a crazy scientist gone mad. True?"

"No. I was merely changing plans for my projects."

"Ah. He also says you are a murderer. You killed nearly a hundred citizens from one of your _projects_. Is that true?"

"I was only demonstrating them, my dear mayor."

"Oh, _demonstrating_ them. I guess that's the same answer, isn't it?"

"If you wish to view it that way."

Mayor Tucker looked at his desk for a moment. "Hmm. I see. Well, Dr. Oikonny, I'd like know a bit on your history. That's something Garnett _hasn't _ told us." He gave a wry look at Old Garnett.

Dr. Oikonny breathed deeply. "I was born and raised on Corneria. My parents named me for a much-loved uncle my mother had on her father's side of the family, a man named Andross Sheridan. I went to public schools and then to a university, recieving a Master's Degree in science and technology. I spent most of the last two decades developing weapons for the government, but they refused to accept my projects, since we were in a time of peace and have been for many years."

"And that's where you went mad and unleashed your fury on the citizens of Corneria," broke in Old Garnett.

"I did not. I felt it necessary to show the government the power of my weapons, since they refused me each time I asked for testing space."

"It's common for people to deny that they've gone insane," drawled on Garnett.

"Sir, you continue to insult me with your lies. Stop them at once." The doctor peered at Garnett.

"You knew Corneria was at a time of peace, but you just wouldn't accept it, and you went nutters for it. What a price over worthless machinery. Now you're here. All the time you wasted, down the drain. So sad." He shook his head.

Dr. Oikonny's piercing stare turned cold. "It has not gone down the drain, I assure you. You will see, in time."

Old Garnett slapped his knee. "'Time', he says! Time is something I don't have, Doctor! Remember that!"

"Then it is clear you will not see the end of my accomplishments. For at the end, I will not fail."

Calan noticed that the scientist never used contractions. Was that normal? He supposed not, even from a brilliant scientist. If what Old Garnett said was true, then it must be an effect from going insane.

"Mayor Tucker," continued Dr. Oikonny, "I have only been on this planet for two days, but I must say that I want to help Saturnalia develop. Elections are drawing near, are they not?"

"They are," answered Tucker uncomfortably. "Why?"

"If you want to maintain your office, then you must give promises to the people of Saturnalia in my name. I have had much time to think while traveling in the prison transporter. What I want to say to the people is that Venom shall no longer be their prison, their hiding place. It will be the capital of a Lylatian empire greater than the kingdom in Corneria. I wish to be at the head of that empire, and you, of course, shall be one of my most high officers, as King of Venom. How does that suit you?"

Mayor Tucker was flattered.

"K-king?" he sputtered in shock. "Why...I would love it! What would it take to do this? What are you proposing, Doctor?" The tone of exitement in his voice made even Calan feel better about his situation.

"It will take several years with your most loyal cooperation, Mayor. But I will get what I want, even if it takes a while. As for spies...I will need you, Captain O'Donnell. You and Commander Palowski."

"Of course, sir." Wolf was already addressing the scientist as "sir."

"We would be pleased, sir," said Leon. There was something about the way he said it that made Calan feel like something had crawled down his back.

"Good. I see I have your devotion already. This is a step. A step toward your great loyalty to a new order. And me, most of all."

"This will be exciting!" Captain Merrick exclaimed. "Quincy—I mean, Corporal—we'll get to _go outside_!" She sounded so happy.

"I know, Cha—Captain. I know." Corporal Lafayette smiled. He looked like a sickly soldier who was grinning at the thought of getting new rations.

The only one in the room that didn't seem fazed was Old Garnett.

"So you're all falling for this, just like that?" he said hotly. "Just like that? Pathetic, the lot of you! I expected some sort of struggle. This man is a lying liar, that's what. Fools! Idiots!"

"Silence," snapped Dr. Oikonny. "From now on I am known as Andross, nothing more and nothing less. At the election time, I will show my new title. I will give you yours in at the same time, if you wish, Mayor."

"Please, call me Forrest."

"In time." Andross turned his dark gaze on the captain and corporal. "And you two. You listen in on our conversation—surely you must realize you are to be important in the empire."

Merrick and Lafayette looked at each other.

"You will be under Commander Porter's guidance, of course," Andross went on. "It is—"

"Commander?" Calan interrupted, startled.

"Yes, _commander_. Do you like your new title?" Andross asked breezily.

"I—what have I done to deserve it?"

"You and your comrade are like me: exiled, betrayed, imprisoned. Perhaps, when I know you will give me unquestionable loyalty, I will grant you your own planet or name you as a successor." He caught Wolf's eye for a brief second. Calan noticed the flicker in his eyes as he said this. He said nothing.

Mayor Tucker jumped up from his desk. "Then it's settled! The Saturnalians will be so pleased to hear that they can finally emerge from the ground and live where they can see the stars!"

"Eventually the capital will be moved to Corneria, when we have control of each and every planet in the Lylat System," replied Andross. "I know that it will be some time, but rest assured that your people can see the stars from other skies, besides this one."

"Thank y—"

"I need not be thanked, Forrest. Now...what have you to offer in terms of food? I am famished."

At last, a breach in Andross' shell. Calan smiled to himself. It was like he was being liberated, and Andross was the liberator. Old Garnett didn't like it, but Calan couldn't help but think of his new title. He'd nothing to deserve it or get it, but there it was. Maybe he'd even rule a planet, who knows?

They all left to join the mayor for dinner at his residence—really more of a palace. And while they walked there, Calan couldn't help but get an eerie feeling in his stomach.

Captain Merrick walked with Calan down a dark hallway.

"Could you at least tell me where we're going?" asked Calan.

Merrick shook her head. "Naw, that would spoil it all!"

"Captain...."

"Stop with the formality, Calan. You're acting like the mayor. He can't stop calling our fine doctor Potentate Andross."

"So now he's got a title already? I thought he'd hold that off until the elections!"

"Those are three weeks from now! It's just temporary, he says. Tucker can't stop drooling over the man's shoes. Anyway, no one recieves anything until the elections happen. You're a lucky guy, bud. Andross likes you."

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Boy, you got yourself a surefire way to power!"

"Who said I wanted that?"

"I can see it in your eyes, Porter. And your friend Grissom—he's got that look, too. Apparently if you do well enough when we 'take over', you'll get your own planet."

"Probably Aquas, or something useless."

"Why the attitude, bud? I thought you were enthusiastic about all this! At least, everyone else is. Quincy and I sort of let loose to some of our pals all the information at the little meeting. Everyone in Saturnalia's talking about it. I think Andross will win, no matter who runs against him. The popularity is amazing, Calan. Imagine us going to Corneria, or wherever we wanted—we could have both the power and the people to do it."

"Yeah."

"It took one day and you're already ranked higher than me, _Commander_."

"I guess I'm what you call blessed."

"And lucky," added the captain.

"Cap—Chaya, tell me, _where are we going_?"

"You'll love it, but you have to be suprised to enjoy it thoroughly. Otherwise you might turn around."

"Tell me."

"Calan!"

"Chaya."

"Fine. It's a mirror."

Calan laughed out loud. "A _mirror_? Why in the galaxy are we going to see a mirror?"

"I told you! Anyway, it's more than a mirror."

"How so?"

"You'll see. It even has it's own name. Suffice it to say that it's one of a kind—and people have been searching for it for nearly five hundred years."

Chaya lead Calan to a door that looked like it was made of pure gold. It opened slowly, and they entered a misty room. Steam—or what looked like it—floated around a mirror ten feet tall and five feet wide. Chaya pointed at the mirror.

"Touch it," she said, smiling.

Calan approached it slowly. It appeared to have a liquid surface. He leaned closer. There were voices whispering in the room...were they in the mirror? How was that possible? He scanned it carefully. Cautiously, he put a finger up to the surface and poked it, pulling back quickly. The surface rippled. He felt a watery substance on the mirror, yet his finger was dry. As he did it, foreign letters scribbled across the silvery, cloudy face in gold. They disappeared a few seconds later.

Calan suddenly remembered Chaya was in the room with him. "What is it?"

"The Mirror of Echoes," answered the captain. "The mirror was first created by some of the earliest Haissan sorcerers to help remember the people of the past. The mirror was filled with an everlasting magic power that could not be drained from it. Go ahead and try to stick your whole arm in it."

"My whole arm?"

"Yes. Go on."

Calan hesitated. It was obvious that there was more to this mirror than its looks. Nevertheless, he trusted Chaya, though he barely knew her. He closed his eyes and thrust his hand into the mirror, willing himself to push harder. He felt a cold, tingling sensation as he did so. His hand felt different, almost as if it had left the mirror. He pulled it back out quickly.

Chaya stood next to him. "Do you hear those voices?"

Calan became aware of her. "Yes...."

"Do you know who they are?"

Calan stifled a laugh. "Lurkers? Spies? Stalkers?"

"Ha, ha. No. Did you see the writing when you touched the surface?"

"I did. What are you getting at, Chaya?"

She gazed at the mirror and didn't answer for a few seconds. "This mirror, the Mirror of Echoes, was a jewel of Jadoram for some time. It is over 1,500 years old. It was originally created around the year 1168, but the exact date is unknown. For a thousand years, the Mirror of Echoes stayed at Jadoram. Then it was secretly moved by some Haissans to Venom—where they met a new kind of people—the Lylatians. There were explorers from Corneria on Venom, scouting the area, when they found the Haissans. Well, they both decided a truce so they wouldn' t have to fight. It served them well. The Haissans explained that they were experiencing a time of peril on the Haissan homeworlds of Jadoram and Oova, and that they were moving the mirror for safety reasons. They feared the mirror would be used as a weapon in the wrong hands. So they kindly gave it to the Lylatians, trusting them to bury the mirror beneath the surface of this very planet—because after all, no one would bother coming here.

"Apparently the Haissans thought the explorers were trustworthy when they gave them the mirror. And their assumptions were correct; the explorers buried this mirror deep beneath the ground. Not only did they do that, but they decided to build a city along with it, a city to protect the ancient mirror. So our grand city of Saturnalia was born, all in secret. We have maintained the mirror for 500 years. Over the course of these years, our city has grown and flourished. More and more convicts were delivered to Venom, especially during the 2400's when the Cornerian civil war broke out. Fortunately for us, the rebels lost, and most of them were dumped off here, thus widening our gene pool even more than before."

Calan had listened to every word. He drank in the information like cold water on a hot day. "This is fascinating. Does Andross know of this mirror?"

"Not yet," Chaya said, "but I can see that he will sort out the uses. Tucker will beg the man to see it. I know him well enough."

Calan nodded. "And how does this mirror work?"

The captain smiled again. "That is the mystery, my friend. Few people know exactly how to work it. You have to be fluent in Kragglan to activate it. Perhaps that's why the Haissans felt no reluctance to hand it over. They knew we couldn't work it, anyway."

Calan nodded. Curiosity buzzed around his head.

"Do you see those markings at the base, right there on the pedestal? It's a chant written in the Kragglan letters. If you could read the letters and know Kragglan, you could work the mirror. It is rumored," she said, stepping foward and touching the surface lightly, "that the Mirror of Echoes will let a person see into other's thoughts. Over those thousand years, people have touched it. When they touched it, their thoughts were transfered to the mirror."

"So...those voices I heard—"

"—were the thoughts of the ancient Haissan people, or whoever had touched it before. Since you extended your arm into it, the mirror has probably taken more than enough from you." She turned around and headed back to the door.

"Where you goin'?" Calan asked quizzically.

"Back to duty," the captain replied. "Mayor Tucker wants me to meet him in his office for some business. The doctor's business, probably. I've never seen Tucker so excited before...."

"Aren't you going to stay?"

"No. Listen, you shouldn't exert yourself over figuring out the chant. It's not worth it. You don't know Kragglan, and unless you know a way off of Venom without the alert systems of Area 6 and Bolse going off, you never will. Give it a rest. That mirror has stood there for hundreds of years, Calan. It hasn't been disturbed yet. Hopefully it never will."

"But...Chaya, this is a powerful mirror! We could sell it back to the Haissans and tell them—"

"Maybe it was a mistake to show you this, bud. I'm telling you, don't go near this mirror again, unless you have to. You'll go insane if you keep hanging around it. People keep trying to figure out that stupid chant. Besides, those Haissans could have been lying when they gave the mirror over to the Lylatians. It might have been some piece of junk bewitched to look powerful. Leave it, Calan. You'll go insane otherwise." Chaya turned and left.

_Like Andross did?_ Calan thought. He looked back at the mirror. Maybe she was right. He went to the door and gave one last look at the mysterious mirror. Then he left for lunch.


	4. The Apollyon of Lylat

Chapter 4:

_The Apollyon_ _of Lylat_

Saturnalia, Venom

April 13, 2668

"We need pilots willing to go outside in the heat of danger, pilots who will not hesitate to kill if any Cornerian ships find you." Calan walked between two lines of fresh, young pilots. No one but Calan was wearing a uniform—the newly created Venomian uniform. It was black with red and yellow on it. Calan's hat made him feel just as important as the rank marks on his chest. He liked being a commander.

The young men and women didn't speak. There were 20 of them.

"I expect," continued Calan, "that you have learned all you can about a starfighter. Well, our great emperor has issued new designs and new fighters. We have never seen anything like them. Your knowledge is useless."

The pilots looked at each other.

"Commander," one said, a short male, "what do you mean?"

"I mean what I say," answered Calan. "There are new ships that we'll be using, and for one sole purpose. We need, ladies and gentlemen, _martyrs_."

"Martyrs?" choked out the same male. "We're to be martyrs?"

"In a manner of speaking,yes. I don't know what Andross has planned, as he won't reveal this to anyone yet. But he wants to build the military, and he wants well-trained soldiers. If we ever meet the Lylatians, we want to be able to defend ourselves in case of possible attack."

"Lylatians?"

"Yes. Andross decreed that we refer to them as Lylatians and ourselves as the Venomian Alliance. He is building a new city to be built in his own honor." Calan smirked.

"What city?"

"Lupercalia. He liked the name. It is like a twin to Saturnalia. He tells me that the names from both cities were once ancient Earth holidays. Something of the sort, anyway." Calan walked to the other side and paced some more. "I'd like to see some progress in your flying abilities and maneuvering. When Captain O'Donnell gets here, he'll brief you on the new models of starfighters in stock. No one's flied them yet."

"But sir," a young woman inquired, "how are we suppost to know how to fly them if there's no one to teach us?"

"I told you that Captain O'Donnell would do that."

"But no one's flown them before."

"That's no concern of yours, private. I know the captain can teach you what you need to know. He's an excellent pilot."

Just then the door at the east wall slid open and a uniformed Wolf O'Donnell strode through, looking happier than he had in two weeks.

"What did you do with Leon?" Calan asked him.

"He's back at his condo." Wolf winked at Calan. "I think he wants to have some time for himself, ever since Andross gave him some little presents."

"What kind?"

"Medals, blah blah blah. He'll be occupied."

"Good. It's time for you to get in charge of these people here."

Wolf turned to the pilots and smiled. "Name's Captain Wolf O'Donnell, but you can call me Captain, Captain O'Donnell, or sir. Anything else will get you kicked by my friend Commander Powalski or by myself personally.

"Commander Porter has most likely told you about the new models that Emperor Andross devised. He really is brilliant. A genius. Now, onto the newest models. Actually, they're the _only_ models for you, since no one before this time has looked into aerospace." Wolf chuckled to himself. "None of you really know what you're getting into when you fly. I guess you've studied the books, but have you really gotten some hands-on experience? Didn't think so."

The pilots looked at each other again.

Wolf walked over to a corner where one of the models sat, underneath a large white cover that draped on the ground. He pulled it off and the pilots were in awe. A black starfighter, with red paint streaking across various parts of the ship, glowed in the room. It was as large as the Wolfen was, but perhaps a bit thinner. It had a double set of wings, with two wings underneath each main wing, and one that arched above the gravity diffuser, or G-Diffuser. Wolf ran his hand over the wing of the starfighter.

"Behold the Apollyon," Wolf said proudly. "His Majesty proposed the name for it. He thought it would fit."

The pilots looked hungry to touch it.

"Don't worry, boys and girls. You'll get your chance to fly 'em. Just wait until I test it out."

"And how are you gonna do that?" demanded a taller man.

"We'll be flying around canyons, so that they won't get a clear signal on us. Bolse isn't really a scanning satillite, it just holds in some weapons. Lethal big-boomers. Do lots of damage. Area 6 just serves as a spaceport and base, also a bit of a junkyard towards the Venom side. I want you to know that the nearest scanners are on Macbeth, and most of the time they don't operate past Bolse. All the things you heard before were myths. I happen to know because I'm an Outsider."

The pilots nodded and muttered under their breaths in agreement.

"So," continued Wolf, "it won't be hard to get out and do some practicing. We'll need to start off in an area away from the transporters. Also, once you get acquainted with the Apollyon, we'll do some flying exercises around the planet to find some other prisoner camps and invite them back to Saturnalia and the new capital, Lupercalia. Should they be hostile, you will be equipped with some guns for defensive protection—but only defensive. We need all the people we can get."

Wolf walked away from the Apollyon and over to another ship, which was also draped in the same white fabric.

"This second model is a bomber of sorts," Wolf said, "and it does quite a bit of damage. I flew it myself and tested about fifty miles away. This is the Harpy. Harpies are better than most Lylatian ships as far as bombing goes, so the any pilot ready for this baby will enjoy it."

He had pulled off the cloth and gazed at a black and red ship striped with yellow at the bottom. It was wider than the Apollyon, but yet very quick.

Wolf walked over to the last ship and stood by it with one hand dug into the cloth. He stopped to face the pilots and said, "This last ship is the most explosive. It has the speed and maneuverability of the Apollyon and the power of the Harpy. This," he whipped off the cloth, "is the Shangri-La. It was named for its everlasting greatness, an Earth concept that suggested youthfulness and peace. Well, the Shangri-La is anything but peaceful—at least, not to the enemy." Wolf slipped a smile.

The Shangri-La was about in the middle of the Apollyon and Harpy. It was not too wide nor too narrow, and it seemed just the right size for a good fighter. It was almost all black except for red streaks by the cockpit, and the yellow was underneath the two wings. The G-Diffuser was slightly larger than the others, which showed that it could move quickly. Overall it was a pleasant ship to look at, like the others.

"So," Wolf said, "I want you boys and girls here in this room, tomorrow at dawn. After some briefing, we'll head to the training rooms to start some newly programmed simulations designed to fit the Apollyon, the Harpy, and the Shangri-La. Then we head out into the hangars. Got that? Dismissed."

The pilots exited out of the room. Calan followed Wolf as he paced the room in a triangle by the ships.

"Something on your mind?"

"Not really," Wolf answered. He paused. "Okay, yeah, there is something. Andross wants us to have markings. Tatoos. On our upper arms."

"Tatoos?"

"That's what I thought. He thinks it will tell one Venomian from another. As if we'd get confused with someone else...." he trailed off with a smirk on his face.

Calan shrugged. "I don't have a problem with it."

"Well I do. I'm not sort of person to go through with stuff like that. I've always been a bit of a rebel."

"Your story suggests that."

"I know it does, that's what I'm saying. I don't think I'm really part of this group." Wolf stopped pacing and stood close to a wall by the Harpy.

"What are you talking about? You've been helping us!"

"But I'm not part of your group, not really. Neither is Leon. I'm just not a part of this—or I shouldn't be. I'm tempted to fly out right now. But Andross said he'd give me a reward beyond anything I'd find out there. I didn't believe him at first, but that man got the better of me, damn him. He said it so well, so persuasive, I just had to agree and say I'd stay. Now I'm not sure whether to stay or run."

Calan thought about it. "What does Leon want to do?"

Wolf sighed. "I dunno. I think he might like it here. He usually goes along with whatever I want, but we're a team!"

"True."

"I don't know what to do is all."

"Sorry Wolf, but I'm not a counselor."

"You asked, so I told you."

Calan nodded and stared at his feet. "Guess I did."

Wolf leaned against the wall, standing between the Harpy and the exit. "I feel guilty, though. I have the option of leaving, but the other convicts and the Saturnalians—they're all stuck here. Like you. They told me that you were innocent."

"I am."

"That's why I feel like a load of crap, knowing I can go."

"So go."

"I can't."

"Captain O'Donnell, you have every right to go, whether you take some of us with you or not. We are all here for a reason, and that reason is because we are criminals. The Saturnalians are here of their own misfortune; it can't be helped and you can't rescue two or three million lives. It was my own misfortune that I ended up here."

"God Calan, you make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

"Aren't you?"

"Hell no. But I've got a decision to make."

"Right you are. And whatever choice you make affects other people's options. And mine."

"See you later then, Cal."

"Bye."

The next morning Calan walked in the mayor's office to find not only Forrest Tucker there, but the newly installed emperor as well.

"Ah, Calan!" Tucker exclaimed, putting his hands together. "Nice to see you this morning! How was sleep?"

"All right," Calan said groggily, still trying to get the effects of sleep to wear off. "How about you? Sir?" he added quickly.

"I'm fine. Never better! I've got something to show you."

"I'm all eyes and ears."

Tucker pulled his sleeve up and showed a black tatoo of a python snake that coiled around a dagger. The dangling tail of the snake almost conjoined near the elbow, etching right into his fur. He gave Calan a sheepish grin and said, "His Majesty thought it was nice. Do you like it?"

Calan didn't answer him. He turned to Andross. "Sir?"

"I proposed this tatoo to be given to all Venomians," Andross said, "to help tell them apart from those...loyal Lylatians."

Calan stifled a fake grin and said, "It's...it's very nice."

"You'll all be getting some," the mayor said excitedly.

Calan took a sideways look at Andross and said nothing.

"No excitement? It is a gift! Those with the mark of Venom will blessed in the future years!"

"How?"

"You all will be first class citizens, of course!"

"Why wouldn't we all be?" Calan asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're confusing me, sir."

Andross laughed. "I should not have said anything. But the tatoo will be required."

Calan wasn't sure where the big boss was taking this or what he was talking about, but he'd have to follow through if he didn't find an escape route with Wolf. There was nowhere to run if he resisted.

"Your Majesty, if I may show Calan the designs....?"

"Forrest, you are always so formal."

"I have reason to be! Your brilliance is so great that I couldn't do any less!"

"Forrest...." Andross laughed, shaking his head. "All right, if you wish."

Tucker dug through his desk and found a book labled _Capitol Ships_ in messy handwriting. He sat down by Calan and opened the cover to reveal some sketches of giant starships sailing the stars. He pointed to a particularly large one and said, "This type of ship is called the Satyr, and—" he turned the page, "—this is the Sileni. Both of these ships are ones we plan on making to help defend ourselves in times of need. We plan on making both flagships for Saturnalia and Lupercalia."

Calan looked at the beauty of the two ships. "But...aren't they....?"

"Too big? That is a problem, but we are choosing a good spot to hide the ships. They may have to stay in the spot that they are built. It's unfortunate. But it must be done. We cannot afford to have those bases see us."

"But they're too far away," Calan protested. "The bases can't trace us—"

"I know, I know, but the transporter ships might pick us up. We will have to be very cautious in our building. His Majesty wants an army set up, don't you, Your Excellency?"

"Yes. Thank you, Forrest. Let us not plague Commander Porter any more on these matters. Are you ready for your tatoo, Calan?"

Calan looked up at Andross. "_Ready_, sir?"

"Yes. We can do it now. Forrest, call in Jansen."

Calan walked away rubbing his arm, staring at his new tatoo. It had to be tatooed red so that his leopard spots didn't hide away the mark. He couldn't say that he liked it much. He wished he could go to Adratia and spend his time with his mother's side of the family. Calan thought about asking Wolf to hide him in a compartment, or use one of the new fast transporter ships that the Saturnalians had built, called the Rostik. Maybe Korrigan and Abraham would come with him, and they'd all spend the rest of their lives living happily in Adratia. Calan couldn't wait to see how the little cousins had grown, with Uncle Mehmet and Aunt Rametah along with Grandfather and Grandmother. Would Joram and Katriel be almost unrecognizable? Uncle Mehmet and Aunt Rametah had defended Calan at his trial, even though they were unsuccessful. Only his aunt and uncle believed that he was innocent. Surely they'd welcome him back in open arms.

He nearly bumped into a cart of books sitting on the corner of a hallway near the library. An elderly woman shooed him off and went away muttering. Calan rubbed his arm again and moved away.

This time he almost ran into Korrigan.

Korrigan stopped just in time. "Jeez laweez, Cayl. I 'bout didn't see you!"

"Me neither."

"So, what's up? Hey, what's that on your arm? Is that your tatoo! Look, I've got mine too! Just had it done. Some fellow was doing it in the café down town. What d'you think of it?"

"Um...it's all right...."

"Yeah! I love mine! Can't wait to show it off! But then everyone else is getting one, too. I'm gonna set up my new home in Lupercalia. You don't know how many people are flockin' there! It's a madhouse!"

"Korrigan?"

"Yup, Cayl?"

"You're acting pretty damn weird, you know that? Too hyper. You drink something?"

"Naw. Just an adrenaline rush." He whipped out a fungus cigarette and a lighter.

"No wonder," mumbled Calan, rolling his eyes.

Korrigan blew out minty smoke. "What? Don't like it? Really bud, you should try these things. They work like magic."

"For what? Getting you addicted?"

"Oh Cayl, you need to relax once in a while," he sniffed. "Anyway, I'm feeling better, now that I've got these babies in my pocket." He tapped his front right pocket carefully. "So whatcha doin' later?"

"Not much."

"Ah. Heard you might get promoted."

"What?!"

"Yeah. To Captain. You'll get one of those...do they call 'em..._flagships_? Yeah. Only two of those. I wonder who the lucky sucker is that gets the other one...."

"No clue. Tell me, where did you hear this stuff?"

"From that fellow doing my tatoos in the café. You should talk to him, he's pretty cool. For a Haissan."

"Did you say Haissan?"

"You deaf? Yeah."

"Did he mention a name or anything?"

"Naw. Why?"

"I need to talk to him." Calan ran a hand through his fur and quickly jogged off. "See you later!" he called over his shoulder.

"Whatever," muttered Korrigan.

Calan raced to the café and tried to walk as fast as possible to find the Haissan tatooist. He pushed past a group of people (and recieved cold stares) to the far corner. A few people were walking away, pointing at their tatoos proudly. Calan saw the Haissan putting his things away for the day. He ran up to the man and managed to say, "I—need to talk—to you...."

The Haissan man, wearing a hooded forest-green cloak, looked at Calan in surprise. "To me?" he said in a thick Haissan accent.

"Yeah, you. You...d'you know...I mean...of course you do...what I meant was..." Calan shook his head to try and breathe.

"Meant what, with me?"

"Pardon?"

"Come with me," repeated Calan.

The Haissan thought for a moment. "I might. Why do you ask?"

"The Mirror of Echoes."

The Haissan's eyes widened. "I'll go with you," he agreed, standing up and moving so swiftly that the hem of his robes were behind his feet. Calan followed the Haissan out of the café and down a hallway. He stopped in an unoccupied part of the hallway and whispered, "Sir, how do you know about the mirror?"

"It's here," Calan replied, "and I know that you can work it."

The Haissan looked around to check if anyone was listening in. "I don't think you're aware of the powers of that mirror."

"Yes I am. You can get into memories of past peoples. My friend Chaya told me all about it. She showed me the mirror."

"And did she tell you of the powers it possesses? That the Mirror of Echoes is also the Key to the Weapons of Strife?"

"Weapons of what?"

"Strife, sir."

"Don't know what those are."

The Haissan slapped his head. "I suppose you wouldn't. But no Haissan must know about that mirror. Do you understand? And no Lylatian needs to see it, either. It should be closed, shut away."

"Why? I want you to help me decipher the mirror so I can get into the thing."

"You don't want to. No, you shouldn't, and you were foolish to have told me about it."

"Why?"

"You don't know what I could have used it for. I'm an honest man, and I wouldn't have done wrong with the mirror, but others would take advantage of it."

"What's your name?"

"Kaleel."

"That all?"

"All that I would tell you. I'm doing tatoos for people around here. I happened to drop by because of some malfunctions in my ship, but they're taken care of now. Only a select few Haissans know about Saturnalia." Kaleel was still looking cautiously around.

"I see," Calan said. "Say—I'm trying to find a ship out of the system. Do you—"

"I'm sorry, I cannot possibly get you a ride out of here. But I do know someone who makes trips out of Jadoram for people. He runs a little business in Indiatapan with small starships and weapons. Might help you out."

"Could you really? That'd be great."

"Yes. He'd love to come out here and pick you up, if you want. Always wanted to see the Lylat System. His name's Semori Daiu, for reference."

"Thanks. Do you have a way to contact him on a transmitter?"

"Yes. His transmitter address is _NasilrathMoritko654ts45. _Need me to repeat for you?"

"Could you write it out?" Calan dug through his pockets to find a pen and a piece of paper, among other things. He handed them to Kaleel.

Kaleel wrote quickly and gave the paper and pen back to Calan.

Calan read the paper slowly. "What's Nasilrath Moritko?"

"The name of his business."

"What does it mean?"

"Steel Magnolia."

"Nice." Calan smiled. "So, can this Semori fella speak English?"

"Fluently. He's an excellent flyer, as well. You'll find him a good partner."

"I sincerely hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kaleel."

"And you as well, Mister....?"

"Porter. Calan Porter."

"Ah. Nice Lylatian name. I must go now. You keep the mirror secret, and don't tell any Haissan or anyone else, Semori included, about that mirror. It is vital. Also, you must find a way off of Venom before you get a ride or contact Semori. You see, most Haissans don't know that Saturnalia exists, and if they did, they might try to search it for the mirror. Any place where the mirror could be hidden is important ot them. Farewell." And he swept away.

Calan looked back at the address on his paper, with Semori's name just above that. _The Steel Magnolia_. He liked the name. It would fit for the business.

Now that he could find a ride out of Lylat, how was he going to get off Venom itself? That was a problem, definitely. If he couldn't find someone to get him off, contacting Semori Daiu would be pointless. And with the new tatoo on his arm, he could be suspicious later on in years when he walked about.

Calan sat down by a crate in that corner, thinking. Maybe he should give up trying to get off. Every time he saw a ray of hope, it was plowed over. As much as he didn't want to, he considered that option. Just give up and stay with everyone here. After all, it was his last resort now. No one but Outsiders could get outside, and all the ones he knew couldn't get him off. He knew one thing for sure. The Apollyon of Lylat was with him. That was what Old Garnett called Andross. And with each passing day, he had a feeling that Andross, the Apollyon of Lylat, would leave a lasting impression once the Lylatians found out about Saturnalia and Lupercalia.


	5. Catalyst

Chapter 5:

_Catalyst_

Calan, Abe, and Korrigan were sitting together in a bar, drinking their beers slowly.

"Wolf's been acting weird lately," said Calan. "I'm not sure what'swrong with him, but he's looking at me as if he knows something I don't. Really quiet."

"Yeah. Did you know he stayed and got his tatoo? Doesn't seem too proud, though," Korrigan said.

"I wonder why," Abe said thoughtfully. "He's in Andross' inner circle, isn't he?"

"With me, yeah," replied Calan.

"So, how's your new ship, _Captain?_" sniggered Korrigan. "D'you know who your new crew is?"

"No, and the ship isn't finished. I've only seen the drawings of it."

Abe said, "Maybe you'll get to pick your crew. You'd pick us, wouldn't you, bud?"

"Yeah, and with either of you on the bridge, we'd crash."

"You're full of it," said Abe.

"We wouldn't either," said Korrigan.

Calan took a long swig of beer. "Well boys, I—"

His transmitter went off. Calan dug for it in his bag and pulled it out. It was Mayor Tucker.

"Sir?"

"Calan—er, Captain Porter, you need to come down to Section 132 along with Abraham Grissom and Korrigan Ramsey, understood? It's by orders of His Excellency."

"Erm..."

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Sort of. We're down at Sully's Bar."

"Well, you'd better get down there as fast as you can. His Majesty won't wait too long."

"Fine, sir. We'll be down right away."

Calan disconnected and put the transmitter away. Section 132? Wasn't that were Chaya had shown him the mirror?

"Guess that means he's got urgent business, if we're going there."

The other men nodded.

When the three of them had entered the room where the Mirror of Echoes was, they were astonished to see Andross pacing in front of the mirror, and the Haissan tatooist, Kaleel, standing by him. Kaleel was looking in wonderment at the mirror, but Andross' facial expression suggested he was hungry for something.

"Captain Porter!" he said, when he looked up to see Calan standing there.

Calan merely nodded at Andross. He looked at Kaleel.

"Kaleel, how did you get here?" Calan demanded.

Kaleel pointed at Andross. "The great Apollyon of Lylat dragged me into this room. I swear upon the name of the gods I didn't come here by my own will."

"You know this man?" Andross asked with an raised eyebrow.

"I—we met yesterday."

"Good—then you may knock some sense into him," Andross said, guesturing Calan to step forward to Kaleel.

Calan was confused at first and didn't move.

"Calan—Mr. Porter," Kaleel begged, "tell him I won't do it, tell him!"

"Won't do what?"

But before Kaleel could answer, Andross broke in. "Captain Porter, you are quite naïve to not recognize the situation in the room right now. I asked Kaleel to say the chant on the pedestal of the mirror to me, so that I might use it for the greater good. But, this young fool refuses to do so. What do you make of that?"

Calan couldn't take his eyes off of Kaleel, and when he did, he looked at the mirror.

"I'm not sure you want to activate that mirror, sir."

"Yes, I am quite sure I do," sneered Andross in a tone that Calan had not heard before. "Do you not know what I could do with the Weapons of Strife? I could use the magic to make each and every ship, every fighter, every soldier, _invincible_. There would be no casualties. And Lylat would be ours."

"Really."

"Yes, _really_."

"You know what?" Calan said, to no one in particular. "I think Old Garnett was right about you."

Andross laughed. "Mr. Porter, you are amusing. Garnett was an old fool. I will do better with these Weapons of Strife. The magic in them is as everlasting as the mirror's. All I need is for this Haissan idiot to say the chant and tell me where the weapons are at. Only those ancient Haissans know where the weapons were scattered, and I know they touched the mirror."

"Would they be so foolish?" Kaleel breathed aloud.

"Did I ask you?" Andross asked savagely. "You, toss me your gun."

The guard handed it over roughly.

Andross took the gun and aimed it at Kaleel's forehead. "Say it. Read the chant."

Kaleel looked as if he was praying. "I won't!"

"Do it, Kaleel. Read the chant or I'll shoot. Don't think I won't."

Calan was at first dazed at the fact that Andross had used a contraction three times just then. But then he realized Kaleel was really in danger.

"Kaleel," Calan said weakly, not sure what to do.

Kaleel looked at Andross with wild eyes. "You _can't _do it, because you can't _afford _to!" he shouted. "You need a Haissan, and I'm the only one here!"

"You'll be replaced," Andross said firmly. "Now, tell me, or I'll fry your brains. Quickly!"

Kaleel didn't say anything.

"NOW!"

He still didn't answer.

Andross looked impatient. He waved the gun around and pointed at everyone else in the room. He pointed at Korrigan. Korrigan looked back at him, gaping. Kaleel sank to his knees, looking ready to bawl.

"Say it, Kaleel, or this young man dies."

"Why?" Kaleel wailed to the air. "Why must I do this act?!" He shook his head as if grieving.

"Kaleel." Andross' finger was twitching near the trigger.

Kaleel looked as if he was strained. He threw his head back and yelled, "_Mokar rasha buaboos abia jial shai queben, zha abur kossar oonei surred oonei sokon, nomere toabadiro jazamir cabosiamed yafsept!_"

The mirror suddenly glowed colors of light to add in with the grayish cloudy surface.

"Touch it and tell me what you hear from them," Andross ordered. "Just one of these is enough...."

Kaleel slowly got up, wiping the sweat and maybe tears from his face. He thrust a hand in the mirror and closed his eyes. His robes were dirty from the floor, as it was a dirt floor.

For a few seconds, no one spoke.

"Well?" demaned Andross. "What have you to say? Hurry up!"

Kaleel turned away from the mirror. "They do not know."

"What did you say?"

Kaleel suddenly laughed. "I was right—they were not foolish enough to say the location of the weapons to the mirror. You'll never find them now!"

"YOU'RE LYING!" roared Andross.

"I am not!" laughed Kaleel. "The mirror's memories never lie! You'll die without your longed-for victory, O Apollyon!"

"LIAR!" howled Andross. He aimed the gun at Kaleel and fired. Kaleel was dead before he hit the floor.

No one said anything. Calan didn't breathe, and he was sure no one else could, either. If only Forrest Tucker had seen this.

"Let that fool be a lesson to you all," Andross muttered. He handed the gun back to the guard. He went up and spat on the floor by Kaleel's body. "I was getting sick of being called the Apollyon. This man is a liar and a perpetrator, a heretic to our cause. You'd do well to stay loyal."

He turned for the exit. "Also, escaping this planet is a futile attempt. I have specially bugged you with a device planted behind your ears. Don't try to take it off—if you do that, you'll die. If you don't believe me, try it. Don't say I didn't warn you." And he swept out of the room.

There was utter silence after that.

Chaya looked at Calan with wide eyes. "I don't believe you."

"You have to. Check behind your ear."

Chaya reached behind and her eyes widened. "Oh my God!" she whispered. "Why didn't I notice before?"

"It's hard to find, but whatever you do, don't try to get it off."

"Why?"

"It'll kill you."

"Don't you think he was lying just so you _wouldn't _take it off?"

"Why don't you find out?"

"No thanks. But I'm sure someone will."

Calan nodded. "Yeah. I all ready told this to India. She didn't believe it at first, either."

"Well, who would? I mean, the man seems like a savior to us. He's our liberator. He'll get us off of this planet and above ground. I can't wait till that time."

"Chaya...."

"What? Oh, you think being on Andross' side is a bad idea."

"I think it'll get us killed."

"Do we really have a choice, Calan?"

"I guess not."

"So you agree, we should fight on his side since there's nothing else we can do."

"Not really. Look, I think that neither of us are going to outlive this. Now we know what he's up to, that he wants to start a war with the Lylatians. Can't you see how the Saturnalians, like yourself, are going to suffer?"

Chaya tapped the back of her ear. "Then why don't we pull the plug now?"

Calan didn't answer at first. Finally he said quietly, "Because, I think, we should at least try to find a way off. Maybe fake our deaths just to get out. We'd have to pick the opportune moment to do it."

Chaya laughed out loud, startling Calan. "Calan Porter, you amaze me. You have a flagship now, being built outside the city above ground, in some crazy canyon, along with the sister ship. Don't you think it'll be a bit hard to just die or disappear?"

"That's why I'll have to crash the ship."

"And everyone on it?"

"If I think I can do it, maybe. I don't want to risk the lives of other people, but if it's my last resort, I will."

"Porter, you never struck me as the killing sort, you know? Even when you first walked in this place."

"I didn't?"

"No. Well. You, that pretty-lookin' Grissom, and the other guy—"

"Korrigan."

"—Korrigan. You all looked like a bunch of schoolboys fresh out of high school, or at least, an academy."

"I don't look that young, do I?"

"Sort of. Anyway. Quincy said that you looked healthier than he expected, but you were all dirty."

"And Quincy looked sick. I don't know why, but he's scrawny."

Chaya smiled wanly. "He's always been thin. Raised that way. His family didn't have much money. His parents died in an accident in the labs. He was pretty much raised by his four siblings, all older and all girls. They didn't have a lot to eat laying around."

"I'm sorry about that. Doesn't he get enough now?"

"Yeah, but he's still a light eater. He eats when he's hungry, but that's all. Has a fast metabolism, and he drinks more fluids than he eats, anyway. Plus he's got lots of energy, plenty to waste on crazy missions and that sort. And he's pretty strong. Never take him on with arm wrestling. You'll get your ass kicked."

"Sounds like you know him well."

"I know him well enough." Chaya suppressed a smile but failed.

Calan sat there for awhile. "I still can't believe that Kaleel is dead. I barely knew the man, now he's dead."

"It's not your fault."

"But I told him about the mirror."

"He would've found out, anyway. And besides, did it matter to Andross? Kaleel was probably doomed anyway."

"I guess so. He was a bit of a martyr. He kept calling Andross the 'Apollyon'. That's one of the names of the new fighter models. But Kaleel...it tore me up watching him die. At least he's in a better place, Haissan heaven or whatever their name for it is. It was a nasty death. And a nasty time before it."

"I thought you said it was quick."

"It was, but he looked like he suffered when Andross pointed the gun at Korrigan. And let me tell you, Korrigan's in a shock. He's been in his room the whole day, smoking, because I can smell the smoke. It's a damn good thing that cigarettes don't do damage, like the human ones do. He'd be dead by now."

"Poor Korrigan."

"I know. I'm in the same disbelief as he is. Korrigan thinks that Andross wants him dead."

"I would too, if I were him."

"Maybe. But I'm worried. You know how I told Andross that Old Garnett was right? Well, what if Andross goes after me next?"

"Don't worry about it, Calan. You said so yourself that he was demonstrating his power. Besides, doesn't he want you as captain of one of the flagships?"

"Yeah. Doesn't mean he can't shoot me like that, though."

Chaya leaned back in her chair. Calan did the same. He liked Chaya's quarters.

"Listen, just don't worry about. Call me later. I'm going to tell Quincy about this, and then we might try to have a chat with India so we can visit Korrigan, maybe make him feel better."

"Go ahead. I'll take to you later, then." Calan got up and said his goodbye, and left. He felt a little better, talking it through with India and Chaya. Now he had to talk to Korrigan again, or maybe Abe. And Wolf, if he could find the man.

Calan slapped down a few credits on the table of the bar and took his drink to a table where Wolf and Leon sat, talking. Neither one looked like they had touched their mugs.

"Hey." Calan sat down.

Wolf nodded and Leon said, "Hi."

"So. I guess you heard about Kaleel."

Wolf looked at Calan. "What's that?"

"Kaleel. The Haissan murdered yesterday."

Wolf exchanged glances with Leon.

"There was a Haissan here?" Leon asked, raising a scaly eyebrow.

"Yes! Didn't you two hear about it?"

"No."

"Nope."

Calan looked at them in disbelief. "I can't believe this. No one else has heard about this! Why isn't it in the papers or something?"

Wolf shrugged. Leon didn't respond.

Calan slapped his forehead. "He must be covering all this up!"

"Who?"

"Andross!"

"His Excellency, do a thing like that?" Leon inquired.

"Not you too!" Calan groaned, looking at Leon. "Tucker calls him that."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not me!" Calan shook his head. "I don't believe this. I _can't_ believe it. Why does this all feel like a dream?"

"Maybe it is a dream," said Wolf, "and this beer just tastes really good as a figment of your imagination."

"Oh ha, ha. I'm serious."

"What's the problem, then?"

Calan shook his head. "Yesterday, me and my buds Korrigan and Abe were summoned by Andross to...erm...a room. The Haissan was there, and Andross murdered him right in front of our eyes."

"Really." Wolf took a sip of his beer.

"Yes! And then Andross goes off and warns us not to cross him, and we sit there, feeling stupid. Now, we leave and go about, but no one knows anything about this!"

Wolf shrugged. "I haven't read the paper yet today."

Calan gaped. He stood up and said quickly, "Okay, you know what? I've got to go. See you guys later."

He was at Mayor Tucker's office only a few minutes later. A secretary allowed him in, and he shut the door loudly after him. Tucker spun around on his swivel chair.

"Calan! What brings you hear today?"

"Mayor, did you happen to hear about a murder of a Haissan yesterday?"

Tucker looked suprised. "I didn't hear of a murder, no. But I _did _hear of a suicide. In Section 132. By the Mirror of Echoes. Apparently the poor lad shot himself."

Calan stared at him. "Sir—"

"Yes?"

"Sir, it wasn't a suicide, it was a murder."

"A murder! It's written all over the papers that it was a suicide, and His Excellency confirmed that."

"I TELL YOU IT WAS A MURDER!" Calan bellowed.

"Mr. Porter, control yourself!" Tucker snapped back. "He confirmed it, and that's what it was! A suicide!"

"It was not! He's a liar!"

"I can't belive you would dare to call the emperor a 'liar'!"

"Mayor—Forrest—_pull your head out of your ass and look around!_" Calan hissed.

Tucker snarled, "You! Get the hell out of my office! I'll tell the emperor about this, and he'll have you under house arrest!"

"I'd like to see him try!"

"GET OUT!" Tucker roared.

Calan stared at Tucker for a few split seconds and stormed out of the room. The naïvety of it all was driving him crazy. He went home to his quarters and fell face first on the bed. Now he could be under house arrest—possibly, and maybe more trouble for angering the mayor. He didn't want to think of the consequences for losing his temper and for damaging the illusion that he was loyal to Andross. But it wasn't so; he knew it. Andross knew it. Surely he'd have some sort of way to control all the citizens, to force them to follow him.

Calan sighed and buried his head in a pillow.

A few minutes later someone rapped on his door. It sounded as if there were more than one person out there. Calan didn't dare say anything.

His door slid open—even though Calan had put restricted authorization on it, like every other door would.

"Mr. Porter!" shouted one of the men. There were other footsteps in his living room now.

Calan couldn't breathe. He could hear the clinking of their guns against their belts.

"Mr. Porter!" the man repeated, louder this time. "I suggest you come out!"

Slowly Calan stood up and went to his dresser. He took out his laser pistol, the Sabre -4 (S-4). He'd bought it after the first few days of being at Saturnalia, when he'd been given cash by the mayor. Well, now he was going to put this to good use. Calan held the pistol where he could pull it up easily.

"MR. PORTER!"

Calan came out in the same slow pace. "What do you need, boys? I was in the bathroom and couldn't hear you at first."

"A likely story," sneered a short man, behind a larger one.

"Mr. Porter," the large one said, "you are ordered to go to Emperor Andross' office room at 1200 hours, which is in about 15 minutes. We are here to escort you, should you do something rash."

Calan nodded. "Okay, well, let's go." He slipped the pistol into his pocket when the guards glanced the other way.

It was a long walk, standing in the middle of six guards, all of whom were armed. By the time he was shoved into the emperor's office, his hands were getting sweaty and he had to frequently rub them on his other leg. He prayed the weapon didn't show up.

Andross' office was elaborately decorated with silver, gold, and marble floors and pillars. It was beautiful—Calan wished it wasn't the office of a murderer.

Andross spun around on his swivel chair, much like Tucker had done, and faced Calan. The guards left.

"Calan, Calan, Calan." Andross shook his head, tsk-tsking. "You've been making our mayor very angry, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir." Calan didn't trust himself to say anything else.

"Seems you love to lie, don't you, Calan?"

"Lie, sir?"

"Yes. About murders."

"No sir, I'm not the liar. That's you."

Andross threw his head back and laughed a horrible laugh. "You are a fool, Calan. You keep resisting me and angering my allies. Well, you are _suppost _to be an ally of mine as well. But you insist on making things hard for yourself."

"All things considered, sir, but I'm pretty sure I know what I'm talking about when I say that you murdered Kaleel, and that you wouldn't hesitate to do it to someone else."

"Maybe so. You've got a rebel mind. I have just the thing to cure you of that."

"Is that so? _Sir_?" sneered Calan.

"Yes." Andross stood up and held out a box-shaped device. "This is a device called the Nerve Inhibitor Device. The NID causes a small wave of electricity to go through a person's body. Instead of electocuting them, as the amount is too low for that, it causes pain in the nerves of that person. It is connected with the bug behind your ear."

Calan feared what was coming next.

"So, let me show you what happens to people who disobey me or make me angry." Andross pressed a few buttons.

A sharp pain shot through Calan's body, both hurting him and numbing him. He fell to his knees, grimacing, and some tears escaped his eyes. He started to shake. He wanted to die.

Andross shut it off. Calan fell to the ground, breathing heavily and sweating worse than he had before. He wiped the tears from his eyes and slowly got up, still shaking.

"Would you like another dose?"

"No...."

"What was that?"

"No thank you, sir."

Andross gave an evil smile. "All right then. Get out of my sight."

Calan limped out of the room, feeling his pulse as if he was being stabbed every time his heart beat. When he was clear of the building, he took out his gun and looked at it. It wasn't damaged. Luckily. Calan was wishing he had shot Andross then and there. He limped the rest of the way home. His head throbbed, and so did everything else. He crashed on the couch and didn't bother taking a shower before he fell asleep.


	6. So Cold

Chapter 6

_So Cold_

July 20, 2668

Lupercalia, Venom

Calan's cockiness with Andross had not quite worn off, but he did feel a bit of resentment with the man. And he'd have to at least act devoted to the Venomian cause. In the past couple of months, he was able to show that he was capable of such loyalties, and Calan was given a large condo in the new city of Lupercalia. And a headquarters site, where Andross' leading officers (and personnel) gathered almost everyday to discuss the progress of Lupercalia.

Calan's flagship was not quite complete. The exterior had been built on the outside, but the inside was nowhere near being done. Workers built day and night (as if there was a difference from underneath the surface) to make every nook and cranny perfect for its new captain. The other flagship was still being worked on from the outside. The captain was to be a man named Blaise Carnell.

Calan had spoken only a couple of times to the iguana. He was a native of Saturnalia. Carnell had been in the military of Saturnalia for a little over 20 years, and he looked like was itching for some action. Which is why he couldn't wait to get in control of his own flagship. Calan felt too young while he was next to Blaise. The military man was 51, and Calan was only 23.

Captain Carnell's first officer was a more lively fellow, a green tree frog named Matthew Caiman. Caiman was 30 years old and had little army experience, but he was an accomplished technician and had learned to fly an Anubis, which was one of the new fighters developed by the new regime. Calan felt more at ease speaking with Matthew than Blaise.

Calan still didn't know who his first officer would be, but it was likely that this person would be older than he. It strained him to think that maybe he'd make a wrong decision, or this first officer would decide that Calan wasn't fit to be captain, and cause a mutiny. He'd had bad dreams about this. Andross' assurances that he would have full authority on his ship did not make him feel better.

One July morning, Calan walked about (in his crisp uniform) to see the progress of the U.V.A._ Tyr_. He felt relieved to be above ground again, for the first time in months. He could smell the dryness of the air, and felt the heat as if he was standing next to a volcano. The workers were sweating madly, and every 30 minutes they were given a water break. But the workers were passionate; they took pride in the work they were doing.

Captain Carnell was nearby, talking with Commander Caiman. He noticed Calan walking about.

"Captain Porter!" he called.

Calan strode his way over.

"So nice to see you!" continued Carnell. "Have you taken a tour of the interior yet?"

"Not yet. But soon."

"Matthew and I were talking about our new ship," he said, "the _Dureau_. It's farther behind than yours."

"I noticed that."

"Well Captain, consider yourself lucky! You'll get a sooner flight than we will!"

"Sir?"

"Test flight, boy! You'll be going with your new crew to sail the stars! I envy you greatly, as you'll be out of here by December, scouting around and testing the warp engines. Suspect that the emperor will have you go to other star systems."

Calan's heart raced. Other star systems? To other planets? Like Jadoram or Adratia?

"He never told me this before," replied Calan.

"I should think not! Didn't want you to get too hasty," Blaise said, as if this was obvious.

"The _Dureau_ won't see action until next March, at the earliest," Matthew confirmed.

"Right." Blaise crossed his arms and looked annoyed. "Didn't I tell Andross to get us done first?"

"You did, sir, but I don't think—"

"I already know he didn't listen, it's the fact he didn't bother to say that we'd be behind that bothers the hell out of me," snapped Blaise. "And we get second pick of crew."

"Second pick, sir?" inquired Calan.

"Yes, _second pick_," Blaise spat impatiently. "_Didn't I tell him_—?"

"Yes sir," broke in Caiman. "You did."

"Well, for all the things I vowed to do for him," mumbled Blaise.

"Captain, it's not all that bad, is it?" Calan tried, pressing his luck a little.

"Pshaw. No. I want to get out of this dump and see the world. How'd you like to spend your life underground, eh? Join the army and never get any action? Does that suit you?"

"No sir, but this uniform is rather tight."

Carnell narrowed his eyes, as if knowing Calan was messing with him. "Matthew—get me some coffee. And be quick."

"Yes sir." Commander Caiman scuttled off.

Carnell turned back to Calan. "Anyway, I can tell you're the sort who likes to be a smartass. Isn't that right?"

"As right as right is to left. Sir."

"Uh-huh. I knew it when I saw you. Never fooled me for a moment. Well, let me tell you something—Andross doesn't like smartasses who mess with his power."

"Really, sir."

"Yeah. So I suggest you not get too smart with me or the other officers in his ranks, because he won't hesitate in giving us the word to open fire on a fellow officer. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Caiman! What the hell are you doing?!"

Caiman was shuffling back, trying not to spill. "Getting you your coffee, sir."

"About time you did something worthwhile." Blaise took the glass and sipped it. "Ach! Too hot! Burnt my tongue!"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't worry yourself wet about it," grumbled Blaise. Caiman shot the captain a dirty look when he turned around.

Carnell started again, "I'm surprised Andross thought you were cut-out enough to make the rank of captain. Don't you think so?"

"He had his reasons," Calan replied, wishing he knew them.

"_He must_," mused Captain Carnell with enthusiasm. "I wouldn't have done it. You're too young."

"Age should not be an obstacle. Sir," Caiman bravely broke in.

Blaise shook his head. "Young people these days. Matthew, you're only a man in your 30s, correct?"

"Exactly 30, sir."

"Hah! You see? Foolish and unknowing. Me? I'm 51. And proud. Because I have experience. Captains are people with experience who can deal with situations and choose the right decision without any sort of rash impulse. Captains are fine leaders. Not just young people with a little clairvoyance."

Calan disliked being bashed constantly by this man, but it was clear that he was trying to toughen him up. Matthew had warned him of this. Carnell was not mean-spirited, but he toughed up his fellow officers to prepare them for upcoming events.

"Nevertheless, Andross chose me, so me must think I'm capable of something," answered Calan in his firmest voice. "I'll do the best I can. And it's really not up to you to decide if I'm fit for the job. It was the emperor's idea. Now, you can always take this up with him if there's a problem. Or, if you're uncomfortable with that, I'll let him know myself."

Carnell's eyes flared. "I'll take care of it myself, thanks."

Calan nodded at the captain and then at the commander. "Good day then." He walked away.

India pursed her lips and concentrated intently on a beaker filled with a strange neon green liquid.

"I wanted to punch him so bad...."

"Yeah, and then you would have gotten in huge trouble. Andross probably would have given Carnell a reason to shoot you, Calan. You've been on shaky ground once before. Don't get back on it."

"You're right, I guess. He said something about choosing our crews...say, would you be on mine? I'll ask Quincy and Chaya if they want to."

India laughed. "What would I do? Measure the water for the greenhouse?"

"No, you could work in the sickbay. How's that sound?"

"I'm no medical doctor, Calan. I'm a scientist."

"And there's room for those on my ship, too."

"On a war ship? You're insane."

"Please? I don't even know my new first officer, because _His Majesty_ won't tell me yet."

India shook her head. "I'm stuck somewhere else. Posted at Zoness as soon as we clear out in a few years."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't want to disappoint you that we'd be so far away. I mean, friends are suppost to protect their friends, right?"

"I would have found out anyway."

"Yeah. I guess I didn't want to admit it myself." India got up and went to the counter. She picked up a rose and stroked the petals.

"Did you get that from the greenhouse?" Calan asked.

"From an admirer," India said, smiling happily. "And I know who that admirer is."

"Who?"

"Quincy Lafayette."

Calan snorted with laughter. "Quince? Ha! He never told me he had a crush on you!"

"Why would he?"

"We're friends."

"So are we, Quincy and I. It's our little circle. You know what? We need a little resistance."

"Resistance?"

"A group to cause problems and hell for Andross when we finally attack. You know as well as I do that we can't run from him with those bugs, but maybe we can create some chaos for him to sort through when the Lylatians come at us."

"And he called _me_ a rebel." Calan grinned.

India grinned back. "I get it from my mother. Now, what to call ourselves...."

"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous?"

"What, more dangerous than the hot water you've been soaking for months now? C'mon Cayl, you and I both know your resistance is no secret."

"So you're saying I should dig myself deeper into the hole."

"No, I'm saying you should do something with it."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

India slapped his thigh. "Stop ruining my idea! Okay, let's think of a name."

"A bit childish, if you don't mind my saying."

"Oh, get over yourself. How about....the Dissenters?"

"What?"

"Dissent. It's a word that means, 'to resist'."

"I knew that. I just think we should pick something else."

"Fine. Maybe....the 'Lupercalian Alliance, Resistance Group', like 'L.A.R.G.' for short?"

"So many alliances...so little time...."

"Shut up. Does it sound okay?"

"I guess."

India didn't bother to hide her excited, child-like grin. "All right! I'll call Chaya tonight—no, I'll go see her. Better idea. I think one of Quincy's sisters would like to join the group, too. If you ask anyone, make sure it's a person who you deeply trust, all right?"

"I will," promised Calan.

India's idea was very popular with their inner circle. Calan had told Abe and Korrigan about it, and they both said they'd join. Chaya and Quincy wanted to be a part of it, too. Jocelyn Lafayette, the third sister, said that she would offer her services to the group. Calan took that to mean that she wanted to join.

The first meeting night was at Chaya's condo (considerably smaller than Calan's). The seven of them gathered around a table and discussed the future, people they could invite to the group, and what they could do once the trouble really started to brew.

Jocelyn Lafayette looked healthier than Quincy did, but she also looked like a hard-worker. She wasn't in the army, but she was in communications and served as an office worker in the emperor's office building. Jocelyn knew electronics as well as she knew the plot to her favorite book. She would be walking on eggshells, but she was very important to the cause.

"I can supply us with microphones in his office and in the main conference room. I know a janitor who goes in there frequently, and he's anti-Andross, so I think I could work something out with him."

"Couldn't you do it yourself instead?" asked Calan.

"Yes, but I'll have to wait for a moment when I know no one's going to be in there."

"That's good. Lots of microphones. Plenty. Do you have a machine that we can all have to listen in, or a main station where no one will discover it?"

"That's the easy part. Under my desk. I can get us a recorder, too, and e-mail the files to you on your laptop or whatever computer you happen to be on."

"Brilliant, Joss!" Calan exclaimed. He liked to feel like he got something done.

Joss looked pleased with herself.

"We all need some weapons, in case," Chaya said. "I have some supplied by the army, so likely Quincy and I will be armed much of the time. But personal pistols, maybe."

Calan's thoughts floated to his S-4.

"Definitely." India looked around. "No one's going to suspect some scientist with a beaker in one hand and a vial in the other."

"You might have to hide it in your quarters the majority of the time, with some of you," Quincy said, "but it should be easy to whip it out before someone breaks open your door."

"Hopefully it won't come to that, but it's a good idea anyway." Calan rested his back against his chair. "Okay, we can get weapons from Quincy and Chaya weapons, and Joss will cover the electronics. Now. I'm a bit of a spy when it comes to ranks, and as long as I act loyal from now on and don't do anything rash, Andross will have no reason to suspect me anymore. What else do we have?"

"Me." India waved her hand.

Calan rubbed his forehead. "Hmmm...d'you think you can get stationed where there's good communications?"

India smirked. "I doubt it. Zoness has the smallest colony of all the inhabited Lylatian worlds so far. No sense in trying to do much until I'm assigned."

"True," Calan said thoughtfully. "Okay, so nothing with Dr. Harris yet. Korrigan, I'll see if I can't get you assigned to my ship, since we can pick our crew. You'd be excellent as a hacker for our systems, and we could get into anything Andross or the rest of Lylat has."

Korrigan nodded. "Don't you worry, Porter. You name it, I do it."

"Thank you for that bit of reassurance, Korrigan." Calan grinned and turned back to the rest of the group. He focused on Quincy. "Say, don't you have some other sisters interested in joining the group?"

Quincy looked at Joss and shook his head. "I didn't think it was a good idea to tell the others. Maybe Marcella, in the future, if I can get some hint that she's anti-Andross. Hardly anyone is outspoken about being anti-Andross anymore, save that Garnett guy. Kiersten is a nurse, so she's depending on the stability of both Saturnalia and Lupercalia for her job. Erika—she's the oldest, by the way—is married to Otto Brizius."

Calan was shocked. "The general?!"

"Yup." Quincy and Joss exchanged dark looks.

Calan ran his fingers through the fur on his head. "I'll be damned..." he murmured. "Is she loyal?"

"To Andross? Oh yeah. Otto and Erika are in Andross' inner circle, in case you've never met them," Quincy replied coolly.

"I'm sure I will," Calan said, rather gloomily. "So no more there." He sighed. "There's got to be more we can do. Maybe later we can add more."

"Anyone in your ranks that would join?" inquired Abe.

Calan thought. "No one besides maybe Matthew Caiman. But he's too much in with Carnell—even though the man treats him like dirt. Caiman's got a good nature about him, I can tell just by looking at him, but there's no way we can approach him unless he comes to us first."

"Shame," Korrigan commented. "It'd be useful to have a contact on the _Dureau_."

Calan was suprised to see Otto Brizius present when he walked into Andross' office the next morning. Andross sat in his usual swivel chair of black leather, and Forrest Tucker, Blaise Carnell, and Otto Brizius sat on his right in three chairs, each more stiff and planted almost into the floor.

"Captain Porter," acknowledged Andross. "So nice of you to join the three of us this fine morning. Please, sit." Calan sat in one to the left. "Let me introduce you to General Otto Brizius and Captain Carnell. General and Captain, this is Captain Calan Porter. He'll be commanding the _Tyr_."

"We've met," Carnell said dryly.

Andross smiled. "Good. It's important for my officers to get out and meet each other...by themselves. Now. I've asked you all to come here on an important cause. Our forces and our empire—my empire—must be built up lest the Lylatians discover us first. It is vital to have a substantial army and air force so that we might better defend ourselves. You all know that Corneria is run by a group of peace-lovers, or so they say, but really they are all waiting for the right moment to attack. Oh, they won't discuss it, but they've got their motives.

"We must first start with a cabinet. An emperor should have people he trusts in his inner circle. You four would be considered part of that inner circle. I have one more officer that I'm adding to be in this inner circle, and that is all. Three of you will be the leaders of the Venomian Army and Air Force, which from now on will be combined into the Venomian Alliance. Forrest, you are to stay with me in doing government, for you are a politician, as am I. You will be premier of Saturnalia and Lupercalia—until we have some territories for you to control."

"Sir," broke in Brizius, an Alaskan malamute of five feet, seven inches, "what will we do? How are the two captains to be in control of the army? Who is the key general or admiral?"

"You are, as of now," answered Andross calmly.

"Why—Excellency, I'm—I'm—"

"You need not thank me, at least not yet. You have much to do in training soldiers and creating all our weapons. I'm assigning some specialists and scientists to help you there."

General Brizius' grey eyes lit up. "I'm honored."

Premier Tucker seemed more conceited, if possible. He looked as swollen as a balloon about to pop. "I am also honored for giving the chance to be premier—"

"Do not forget that you are under my leadership, Forrest. You are nothing without me."

Forrest nodded quickly. Carnell and Brizius looked at each other, raising eyebrows.

Andross went on, "Calan, you and Blaise are my two flagship captains. You will be traveling with some of the largest fleets ever put together. As for my other officer—well, I have some ideas. She could not be here today, but the good vice admiral has told me that she'd be delighted to part of my cabinet. She will be just under our General Brizius. It's likely that she'll have her own large fleet to travel in, and General, you'll be traveling on the ground mostly, conquering planets by land units. Very effective."

"Sir, if I may request something...." Calan started.

"Of course, Captain. Fire away."

Calan shifted in his chair. "Since I'm allowed first pick, I—"

"I have already granted Captain Carnell first pick because he insisted that he deserved it."

Calan sat, heart racing. "But sir—"

Carnell smiled injuriously, as if he'd like nothing better than to shoot Calan in the foot. "You can check the crew list outside Premier Tucker's office building. I'm sure you will enjoy looking for your crew as well."

Calan was angry at getting second pick when clearly he had expected first. What if all the LARG members were aboard the _Dureau_? _Damn. How are we gonna pull this off without Carnell figuring it out? He'd be the first to suggest our executions to Andross, if we're caught. _

"Don't be angry, Captain, there are plenty of soldiers willing to serve aboard the _Tyr_," Andross said soothingly.

"Why would I be angry," Calan said snappishly, "when I can have the second-best?"

"Calan. Don't be bitter about this."

"Then I have another request of you, Excellency. I think we could use some spies in Corneria, in the office of either Peregrine or Pepper."

Immidiately Andross' eyes flared.

"Those two," he said scathingly, "are the reason I'm here. They will regret their decision to dismiss me. Captain, do you have people in mind to send?"

Calan nodded. "A pilot and a techie. Abraham Grissom and Jocelyn Lafayette."

"Have you spoken with them about this?"

"No," lied Calan, "but I will do it if you give me your permission to take care of this mission."

Andross was thoughtful, scratching his chin. "Very well, you can take charge. Remember that our cover must not be blown and this has to be carefully planned. Those two are to deny everything if caught. And I mean die for the cause."

Calan faked a smile. "Of course, Majesty."

After escaping from his office, Calan actually ran down the street to Forrest Tucker's new office building. The newly installed Premier of Saturnalia and Lupercalia had a modest exterior for a building, but the interior was lavish. Calan stopped outside the doors and looked at a poster next to them.

It read, _Instated Staff and Crew for the flagship _Dureau

_Main Staff_

_Captain Blaise Carnell (bridge)_

_Commander Matthew Caiman (bridge)_

_Lieutenant Commander Deacon Russell (tactical, bridge)_

_Corporal Lars Bowen (bridge, helmsman)_

_Ensign Korrigan Ramsey (technical bridge)_

_Chief Engineer Lieutenant Commander Holly Joren (engineering)_

_Chief Medical Doctor Flavia Marjani (sickbay)_

_Lieutanant (Nurse) Kiersten Lafayette (sickbay)_

The list went on to tell regular crew members who did work like cooking and necessities for the ship. Calan had to read it twice to believe it. _Dammit! How did Carnell beat me to Korrigan?! It's like he read my mind! _Nurse Lafayette seemed suspicious. She was one of Quincy's sisters. Calan hadn't heard of the rest, other than Carnell and Caiman. He skimmed the rest of the list and turned away. At least he still had Chaya and Quincy to add. It was too bad that India was going to be spending time on a base at Zoness.

Calan wasn't sure how Korrigan ended up as an ensign. As far as he knew, Korrigan Ramsey wasn't even enlisted in the Venomian army. Maybe he was now, or maybe he was forced in. Either way, Korrigan was going to be aboard the _Dureau_.

Calan walked away glumly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His life didn't get any easier.

He sat alone in his quarters, at his desk, writing officers down whom he wanted on his main staff. Calan's second officer was already picked for him—John Paul Hayden, whom he would meet as soon as the ship was completed. But the others were up to him.

Calan thoughtfully held the felt pen near his head and flicked it. Chaya could be tactical, right behind him. John Paul Hayden would sit next to him, and Quincy would be the helmsman. Calan searched his computer database for officers with good records. Evidentally Carnell hadn't taken them all. Ensign Frederick Guriel could be technical, and Lieutenant Commander Ren Todor was a choice for the Chief Engineer. Of the same rank, Vladimir Stanislav was the best for Chief Medical Doctor. His name suggested that he was either from Fortuna or one of his ancestors was.

Calan smiled at the selection, but all the while praying that his choices were worthwhile later on. Who knew? He wrote in his own name and Hayden's, and then scribbled Chaya's name and rank, changing it to lieutenant commander. He also wrote in Quincy's and changed it to lieutenant. It was better if they were higher ranked than they already where. Chaya was a captain of the army, not the air force, and so she was lower than what she would be on the ship. Quincy's rank was also military, but Calan was sure that Andross wouldn't mind if he messed a little with ranks.

_Staff of the Tyr _

_Captain Calan Porter_

_Commander John Paul Hayden_

_Lieutenant Commander Ren Todor, (Chief Engineer)_

_Lieutenant Commander Vladmir Stanislav, (Chief Medical Doctor)_

_Lieutenant Commander Chaya Merrick (tactical)_

_Lieutenant Quincy Lafayette, (helmsman)_

_Ensign Frederick Guriel, (technical)_

Calan held the paper up in his hands. It looked good. No further additions. He noticed that he had three lieutenant commanders and two lieutenants. Calan had in mind to change Quincy's or Chaya's, but he couldn't do that. He needed people he trusted up there. It wouldn't matter too much. Todor would be called Chief Engineer, and Stanislav would almost always be called "Doctor". Besides, neither of them would be on the bridge, so the confusion would lessen.

Calan took his papers to a military official, one of the secretaries to General Brizius. She took the papers and entered the information in to several databases, and that was that. Calan left feeling a little better—but he still wished he could have taken Korrigan. He worried over the future, when they finally engaged in war. Would the two flagships be victorious, or would they perish? He knew that it was his decisions—and luck, perhaps blessing or fate from God himself—that would determine the outcome. And Calan knew it was all up to him to survive.


	7. The Steel Magnolia

Chapter 7:

_The Steel Magnolia_

_November 1, 2668_

Captain Porter straightened his uniform and tried to smooth it out the best he could before leaving for the banquet. It was at this honorary dinner, one hosted by Emperor Andross, that Calan would meet all of his officers, and Captain Carnell would meet all of his. The rest of the inner circle would be there as well.

Over the past few months, he had seen little of the Star Wolf team. Andross had asked them to find his nephew and to bring him to Lupercalia, but the likeliness of that was slim. He couldn't be much older than 14 or so—and how could they get him off? Wolf would find a way. Leon could probably care less about some monkey kid related to Andross.

The _Tyr _was finished, but the_ Dureau_ was not. Calan sensed that the first-pick was Carnell's payback for not having his ship completed first. Calan thought it was a pitiful revenge—he didn't give a rat's ass about it. Not anymore. All Calan wanted to do was get out to Jadoram and find Semori Daiu. He could somehow perceive that this Haissan man would be very valuable later on. He didn't know why, but it just felt right. So, as soon as he was able to leave, Calan would leave for the Krythoris system. He vowed not to tell exactly what he would do there. "Just for some test runs," he would say.

Calan arrived at the banquet feeling starchy. His fur was shined by all the gel he could find, and he tried to present himself has a suave gentleman, looking half-Lylatian, half-Adratian. His more exotic side, all from his mother, might help with the other officers. He had stared at the mirror for fifteen minutes, trying to make his face looked absolutely unblemished. His uniform had been washed, ironed, and pressed to the fullest, so that he would appear very crisp. For a 23 year-old captain of a flagship. Calan chuckled to himself as he handed his ticket to the guard outside. _I should be a crummy_ _ensign, that's what. I bet Hayden will have a heart-attack when he finds out who his captain is._ The guard took the ticket and asked no questions. Calan's uniform insignia said it all.

He entered a large room with nearly two hundred guests, surrounding round tables with elaborate chinaware. There was a single long table stretching across the room, which was probably for the emperor and his highest officers. Calan would sit there. But first he would have to find General Brizius or Premier Tucker.

Calan's polished black shoes barely made a squeak, even on the equally polished wooden floor. He saw Brizius holding a glass of wine in one hand and a fungus cigar—the most popular, that is—in his left hand and speaking with a woman whom Calan didn't know. As Calan got closer, he could smell that it was a hickory flavor. _So ol' Otto likes hickory. Korrigan would argue for mint. If I can find that little sucker...._

"Captain Porter!" exclaimed Brizius. "I was just talking about you with the admiral here."

"General," nodded Calan respectfully.

"This is Captain Calan Porter, and he'll be commanding His Majesty's flagship _Tyr. _And Calan, this is Vice Admiral Phaedra Prescott. She'll have one of the main space fleets. Both the _Dureau _and _Tyr_ are scheduled to be in her fleet—although scheduling ahead is almost never accurate once we start a war, so you might be sent off somewhere else."

Phaedra Prescott was a seagull woman in her early fifties. She looked prim and cultivated. Calan thought she stood straighter than a wooden board, if that was possible. He felt like a sluggard; lazy and stupid in her prescence.

"Nice to meet you," Calan managed, straightening up and trying not to breathe.

Prescott merely nodded in recognition. "So, Porter, is it true you are just 23 years of age?" she asked, stressing each syllable.

"Yeah. It's true." Calan took larger breaths so he wouldn't faint. "I was sort of _thrown_ into the rank. I wasn't in the military until some months ago, shortly after arriving. After being a commander, I was promoted by the emperor himself and given titleship to one of his flagships. But I didn't do much to join the army."

"Uh-hmm." Prescott clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

Calan at once regretted he had said all that.

General Brizius didn't look wavered. "Mr. Porter here grew up on Katina."

Prescott's eyes flickered with something. "Is that so? He's an Outsider?" She quickly spun her head back to Calan. "You were an exile?" she asked, voice rising.

Calan wanted to deck Brizius. "I—yeah."

"You must have committed quite a crime on Katina," went on Prescott. "What was it?"

"Murder of six people," Brizius said airily.

"_Murder_? Of _six? Six people?!_" Prescott declared in a hiss of shock.

"No—it wasn't like that—I was innocent—"

Admiral Prescott looked at the general. "Otto, how in the world did His Excellency appoint him?"

"He apparently found favor, Phaedra. I wouldn't worry. Calan is worthy of his titleship to the _Tyr_, and I know him to be honest and responsible. I would trust Calan with my army. He's young, but he's smart and innocent of that crime back at Katina. The emperor confirmed that much." General Brizius glanced at Calan, who stared.

"I hope so," Vice Admiral Prescott uttered quietly.

Calan faked a smile and nodded to the both of them. "I must be off to find my seat and my second officer."

Brizius cackled with laughter. "Oh yes—you don't know who he is yet, don't you? Ah, good ol' John Paul will find you a riot! Taking orders from a little man!"

Prescott joined in the laughter, but it was a very prissy sort of laughter. Calan walked away, feeling panicky about meeting Commander Hayden and wanting to seriously bust the general up. He was embarrassed in front of his leading commander, the vice admiral, and now he'd have to live with humiliation in front of her. She would know more about him when she dug through the archives to find all the information she could on Calan Issac Porter. Calan experienced a feeling that Otto Brizius had done all that on purpose—or maybe not.

Calan found his name and chair between his second officer's chair and Premier Forrest Tucker's. The seat that read _Commander John Paul Hayden_ was occupied by an albatross in a similiarly tight uniform. The only difference was that Hayden was more muscularly built than Calan was. Indeed, the man looked like he could pick up a transport or one of the new model starfighters barehanded. Hayden was also older, at 47.

Calan sat down next to him and introduced himself. Hayden grinned like a schoolboy and replied back, "I'm John Paul Hayden, but you know that already. So, how old are ya', son?"

Not knowing how to say it more properly, Calan sighed and muttered, "I'm only 23."

Hayden let out a whoop. "_Man_! I'm followin' the orders of a guy less than twice my age! You're still a kid, bud! How does a guy that young become captain? _Man_!"

Calan didn't know either, but he just smiled and nodded his head politely.

"How's this lot for dining?" Hayden went on, refering to the crowd. "Can't see any loose guys. All of us are in tight uniforms, 'cept for the chefs and waiters and waitresses. And the emperor, I guess. He's over there talkin' to some general or another. Wish I could memorize everybody's names and ranks. It'd make my job much easier. So where's our first destination?"

Calan looked away from the crowd. "Destination?"

"Yeah, like the test runs. Where we goin'?"

"Oh. Krythoris system."

Hayden was thoughtful. "An interesting choice. Why there?"

Calan answered, "Foreign. No one would know this model. We could lie and say it's a new one being tested out. Same with the _Dureau_. Only they'll take a different location."

"Smart move, Cap." Hayden was relaxed in his chair. "I heard you were in Andross' inner circle. That true?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh. I was a bit—erm—interested in your amount of _loyalty_. You a big loyalist?"

Calan wasn't sure if this was a trick question or not, nor did he have any idea on what his motive was. "I'm not a huge loyalist," Calan said truthfully, praying that Hayden wasn't one.

Hayden grinned his boyish grin again—for an albatross. "Good! I was nervous on havin' a complete loyalist captain in his inner circle, anyway."

Calan relaxed.

"I'll tell you a bit of my story when we get aboard our ship. You know, away from the crowd. I'm sure you've got a story as well. I looked you up in the archives, and I know you're an Outsider. You did quite a crime, though. Said you were innocent? I believe that. You look innocent. Some kid caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. And you're half-Adratian, it said. You look it. Ever thought of flying to Adratia?"

Calan nodded. "After the war, maybe."

Hayden let a small, hearty laugh, like it was supressed because of all the guests—even though they were louder than he was. "I suppose so. Is the Outside very nice?"

"It's great. But you don't really think of it as an 'outside'. No limits, except for your planet or system. I was always outside Rosier City, Katina. My dad was a mechanic for a military base there, headed by an older man named Grey...he had a son named William who was joining the army. Dad knew everything about the base, heard all the rumors, saw all the incidents. After Mom and Dad died, that was that. Then I moved to Javian City, where I was framed. But I've got no family left in Katina now. So I'll be moving to Adratia." Calan sipped some wine that sat in front of him. Glasses had been automatically filled and set before the guests came by the waiters.

"That's good," Hayden replied, "that' very good. I'm stuck here in Lupercalia, but someday I'll live in Corneria. Other Outsiders I've spoken to say that it's the best."

Calan sipped more wine.

Someone was clinking their glass with a spoon to catch the attention of everyone else. It was Andross, sitting in the middle of the big table, not far away from Calan was.

"Attention! Guests, it is a pleasure to have you here at this honorary banquet. Our two flagships—one completed, the other still in the process—have their crew. The staff of each ship will be sitting at this table with me. You may take your seats, and at exactly nine o'clock, I will present you all with a slideshow viewing of our progress so far." Andross sat back down.

The guests murmured some more and sat down in their tables. Waiters came out with the food. Waitresses brought more drinks and add-ons to the food, like butter and steak sauce. Calan noticed some officers going toward his side of the table and sitting down, all in a line. _They must be my crew. Guess I won't have much of a chance to talk with them yet._ Carnell's crew—including Korrigan, who looked bold in his new uniform—marched over to the other side. Immidiately Calan wished he could be next to Korrigan, instead of being next to the premier. He liked John Paul Hayden. But Forrest was growing more boisterous with Andross in each and every minute. Calan wasn't sure he could trust Forrest anymore.

The chicken tasted good, the bread was fresh, and the wine was excellent. Calan enjoyed the meal without saying much. He hadn't said much to Hayden, and he still felt uncomfortable at the idea. He didn't want to say something more stupid than he already had previously to the vice admiral. Maybe on the ship, once they had exchanged stories....

As soon as he was finished, and the rest of the guests were, Andross stood up and had a servant dim the lights. Everyone looked in the direction of a white screen to see the slide show.

"This first ship, you will see, is the building of the _Tyr_. Tomorrow her crew will leave for a test run. We must wish for their safe return."

The guests were awed at the beauty of the Sileni. They clapped and even whistled. Some people looked at Calan. He blushed, hoping Hayden hadn't seen.

"The next ship is the _Dureau_. Satyrs are slightly larger than Silenis are. She is not finished yet, as they are still working on the interior, but she promises to be a fighter. Worthy of being a flagship for the Empire of Venom."

More applause.

As Andross filled in somemore on the newest ships and models, Calan snuck a look down the table at Korrigan. He smirked at Calan and took a few looks at his captain, then crossed his eyes. A lieutenant nearby glared coldly at Korrigan. He stopped.

_What's his problem? _wondered Calan. _At least Ramsey is acknowledging me. He's been pretty snide about his job but soon enough he'll realize that because I'm captain, I could order him to anything—even his own death. Too bad Carnell has him. But maybe the LARG can turn this to our advantage._

As soon as the slideshow was over, people came over, congratulating the two captains and Andross for his excellent work in providing an actual army, one with capabilities of defending itself and fighting on the offensive.

Calan got up to visit Korrigan, leaving Commander Hayden to deal with the other officers. He stopped by the table where Korrigan sat. Other officers next to him had gotten up to chat with people at the round tables.

"So, Ensign Ramsey, do you like your new job?" Calan asked saucily.

Korrigan grinned. "You just shush. Captain Carnell happens to think highly of me."

"I bet he does," Calan said, "since he stole you from a fellow officer."

"Still sore about that, are you? I'll have you know that I'm a pretty big advantage for the LARG. You just trust ol' Korrigan and let me handle everything." He pulled out a cigar and lit it.

"Stop smoking those."

"Not a chance. Did you know that General Brizius—"

"—smokes hickory ones? Yeah."

Korrigan folded his arms. "So there you go. A famous soldier smokes, same as I."

"You're not famous and you're no soldier."

"Famous enough! Brizius loves me! And so does Captain Carnell! He's got in mind to promote me as soon as we get on the ship."

"That won't be until at least next March."

"It will too. Yours wasn't suppost to be finished until December, but they were early, weren't they?"

"Yes." Calan shrugged it off. "Don't you think your fellow crew members will be angry about having you ahead of them, just because you're Captain's Pet?"

"Naw. Why? I deserve it."

"Now you're being egoistic."

"Am not. It's true. Carnell wanted me because of my skills with computers."

"I guess that's right. But your 'pals' won't see it that way."

Korrigan was clearly getting annoyed. He blew a large cloud of smoke in Calan's direction. "Listen Porter—just let me handle this. It might get messy, but I don't need your help, at least not yet. So just back off."

Calan shrugged again. "Fine. Have it your way. Just keep everything I said in mind when the water gets hot."

"Fine." Korrigan blew out again.

Calan marched off. _Dumbass. Carnell isn't a man to be messed with—any fool could tell you that. Matthew Caiman could. I hope at least _he's _not a fool_.

The rest of the evening quiet. Calan left early so he could get some sleep. They were leaving tomorrow.

"All ready, Cap?" Hayden asked.

"Seems like it. You ready?" Calan asked.

"Of course." Hayden rested in the first officer's chair.

Calan liked the feeling of the captain's chair. He liked the positions of the people and posts they occupied. Tactical was behind the captain's chair, along with some configuring computers. Technical and Helm was in front. Sometimes another officer could sit on the captain's left. This was often the second officer, unless that officer had another post. In this case, Lieutenant Commander Chaya Merrick had tactical, and stood right behind the chair, where weaponry computers were at. They were there, all of them.

"All right," Calan said finally, "Lieutenant Lafayette, set us on a course for...Jadoram. Warp 4."

Quincy did so without a word. Next to him sat Ensign Frederick Guriel, who did technical. He was a tall racoon who looked like he had once belonged to a garage band. Calan recalled reading Guriel's records. He was a descendant of some of the first people to arrive at Venom. His ancestors were among the first to found Saturnalia. The ensign was just 19 years old and had joined the army as soon as he was done with school. Now he served on a starship.

Besides him, there was the Chief Medical Doctor, Vladimir Stanislav. He was a man of native Fortunan origin, and he was a good fighter. Why he wasn't a soldier was unknown to Calan. The man had fantastic physical records, his health was nearly perfect, and he was involved in many sports in his high school years. Perhaps the 28 year old Stanislav had decided that becoming a doctor in the army would be better than a sports star. In Saturnalia, fitness was the key, not competition. Calan knew it was the opposite in the rest of Lylat.

The last main staff member was Ren Todor, the Chief Engineer. She was 38 and had a tough personality. Very powerful. She was confident and ambitious, a dangerous combination in some people. Lieutenant Commander Todor expected to do well and to expect no less than perfect from her superior officers. Calan didn't feel as confident as Todor did. Ren was a chimpanzee with piercing brown eyes.

The voyage was slow. Calan spoke with John Paul Hayden for nearly two hours, sitting in the captain's seat and letting the stars sail past him on the main screen. The other officers were generally silent, but once in a while he caught Chaya and Quincy exchanging looks. A conference would begin in a few minutes, where the main staff met each other to discuss the travels and how things were working. They would be in Jadoram the next day, if they sped up to at least Warp 7.

As a backup crew took over and the staff piled out of the bridge to the turbo-lift, Hayden was talking about the ship. "Looks nice, everything all squeaky and lemony-fresh...bet Blaise would be jealous if he could see this! I would be! It's a hot ship! If only I could have served on a ship like this when I was younger...but anyway, that's neither here nor there, eh?"

They reached the conference room in silence. Even Hayden wasn't speaking. They sat down and Calan folded his hands together.

"Our voyage, only two and a half-hours long, has thus far been successful. Does anyone have any comments or reports on the areas of the ship you cover?" Calan inquired.

"Not yet," said Ren Todor clearly. "Engineering is perfect. Only His Majesty's best workers made this ship."

"Clearly," Calan replied. "How is sickbay?"

"All things properly in order and well," Vladimir Stanislav said. "I like the emperor's choice of enlisted people in our various stations. Did he perhaps do it himself?"

"No, that was solely by General Brizius," chastened Calan, feeling stressed about that fact. He tried to not make it sound like it, but he knew he failed, for Stanislav sat back with a peculiar look on his face.

"Tactical works well," broke in Frederick Guriel.

"Glad to hear it, Ensign. Frederick."

"Freddy, if you want."

"All right, Freddy. Tactical systems working so far?"

"Yes sir," said Chaya.

"Good. Helm? Everything solid?"

"Affirmative." That was Quincy.

"Well!" Calan said, standing up. "I think that takes care of things. Dismissed."

Everyone emptied out quickly, except for Stanislav.

"Doctor?"

"Captain, there is something troubling me. I feel I must tell you, but really, I don't wish to."

"Go ahead, Vladimir. I'm open."

Vladimir was sheepish and shy. He scratched his spiked head and finally let out a sigh. "Captain, I'm worried for when we go to war against Lylat. I know what is happening, for I hear it from my sister, who is an aide in the government's main buildings, and my sister, she hears things. Things like declaring war. I thought we were suppost to be defending ourselves. Why do we pursue Lylat? Surely they would beat us."

"You're right, Vladimir. They could beat us." Calan paused, thinking. _What if Stanislav was loyal? He couldn't afford to give himself away. It would put Chaya and Quincy in jeopardy, and then Carnell would suspect Korrigan. Vladimir's Fortunan parents must speak like he does, too. All old-style formative-ish...however you say it._ Calan smiled at the ensign. "Are you loyal to Andross? Do you pledge your loyalty to him when asked to?"

"Of course. I honor the emperor."

"Would you die for his cause?"

"Perhaps. I know what it is now, but I don't understand it very well. Is he after conquest, or revenge, or both?"

"I believe both, Vladimir. But you would still fight for him?"

"Of course, Captain. And for you as well."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Stanislav left.

Calan ran a hand through his facial fur. It was going to be tricky, pulling this off. Vladimir Stanislav seemed like an honorable young man (though he was older than Calan himself) but he was a bit naïve on the subject of Andross. Calan wished he was a different person in a different position at a different time. More than anything, though, he wished he was home.

Jadoram loomed just outside the window in the Captain's Quarters, easily the biggest one on the ship. Calan stood by that window, gazing at the desert planet and its oceans and various jungle-areas. He assumed a few of those areas were oasises. Far off into the distance of space, he could see where Oova, the twin planet, was suppost to be.

Indiatapan was the largest city, and that was where Mr. Daiu lived. Calan feared that he wouldn't be able to find the Steel Magnolia in that mess of people and buildings, but he had a feeling that he would accomplish what he set out to do.

Someone was hitting the yellow button.

"Come in!"

The door slid open and Ren Todor appeared.

"Commander," acknowledged Calan. "What brings you here?"

"Actually, sir, it's just that question," Todor began, folding her arms. "Why exactly are we at Jadoram?"

Calan smiled. "Captain's business."

"I don't mean to be impudent, but may I ask what it is?"

The moment was awkward. _I can't let her know what I'm doing, but if I don't tell, she might think I'm up to something_.

"Just some simple visiting with a friend, Ren. That's all."

"Who?" she inquired.

Calan narrowed his eyes. "As I told you, Commander, my business is my own."

Ren didn't seem to waver. Instead she loosened her arms and said in a clipped tone, "Well, I won't bother you on the subject again, Captain. It's just that I thought we'd make a test run around Venom and that was all. I didn't ask questions when we started because it would have been inappropriate to question the captain of his orders at the time. This is different, and I just expected to get a clear answer."

"I don't have to explain my orders, Ren. At no time of the day am I expected to do it. Besides, I did give you an answer. To visit a friend. Dismissed." Calan watched her spin around and leave.

_What's it matter to her what I'm doing? _Calan wondered.

His transmitter behind his other ear beeped. He clicked it. "Yes?"

Quincy's voice. "Captain, we're ready to send you down to Jadoram in the shuttle bay. Lieutenant Commander Merrick will join you there and help pilot it for you."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He clicked it off and went to the shuttle bay.

Chaya waited for him there by Shuttle 3. The shuttle bay officer bade them a safe voyage and told them that he'd be there when they contacted him for docking. They climbed in and Chaya started up the systems. The officer ran behind the glass and opened the doors. Slowly Chaya lifted the shuttle through the door and into space.

It was quiet and private there. Calan was sure that it wasn't bugged—for all he knew, at least. The day before they set off on their trip he had Quincy search it thoroughly to look for bugs. He reported none.

Chaya sat back as she sailed to the planet, preparing it for re-entry. Autopilot would take over until they reached the atmosphere.

"So, _Captain_, do you know where this guy's place is?"

"Nope. Not a clue. Indiatapan, for sure. But real location? Nope."

"Think about looking it up?"

"Said _Maka Sheno Quomot, Za Indiatapan_. Whatever that means."

"Get someone to translate."

"I'll have to. We need that address."

Calan saw a merchant selling people robes. He beckoned Chaya to follow him over to the robes.

"Robes! Cheap robes!" he called. And then in Kragglan, "_Gharat vankas! Gharat vankas!_"

"Two robes!" called Calan.

The merchant excitedly herded them into his shaded tent, where racks of robes were standing in the desert air. "Pick color and size!" he said with a heavily accent voice.

"I'll take green," Calan volunteered.

"And I'll have cream yellow," Chaya replied.

The merchant quickly took them off the shelves and handed them over. "Quicky, try on and tell how works. You pay twenty each robe, okay?"

"Fine." Calan slipped is on over the uniform and tried out the hood in back. He flipped it over his forehead to shade his eyes. Perfect. And the robe went down to his ankles. No problem. Chaya's was fine as well. She smiled sheepishly and smoothed out the robe.

"Okay, fourty credits," said the merchant. Calan handed them over quickly. The merchant swept them away. "Good, good."

"We have a question to ask you," Chaya told him. "Do you know where _Maka Sheno Quomot, Za Indiatapan_ is?"

The merchant nodded. "Ah friends, east! You go east!"

"East?"

"Yes, but unfortunate you go there. Bad part to go through. But you have weapon you be fine. Excuse bad English, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Good. Me tell you where is. Sweet Memory Street. Not far from statue of Empress Fakalia. Go there and pass two blocks. You find street."

Calan looked at Chaya. "We're going to find the Steel Magnolia."

The merchant looked at them with wide eyes. "You bounty hunters?"

"No—" Calan started.

"Yes, we are! Now is the shop far from the statue?" demanded Chaya.

The merchant nodded his head again, but much faster this time. "Yes, yes! Not far at all! Go and find; please, I must sell."

"No problem. And thank you for the information." Chaya walked out of the tent, making Calan hurry up after her.

"Why'd you tell him that?" he asked.

"Getting answers faster. I thought I'd spice stuff up a little. Good thing we brought our pistols with us. I mean, he did say the bad part of town. Who knows if that means gangters or just a run-down spot. Either way we have to cross it to get to where this Daiu guy is."

They walked on down the street, dodging past other Haissans on their way to the market area. Calan was half-tempted to follow them. He'd never been to another planet like this, with a totally different culture. Men and women left and right were dressed similarly in multi-colored robes with hoods. The hoods and long robes helped shield them from their sun's harmful ultraviolet rays.

While they walked toward the nasty part of town, Calan thought of the bugs behind their ears. He wondered if it could record audio and have a camera. He also wondered if it tapped into his brain and somehow told Andross what exactly he was thinking.

"Chaya," he said suddenly, "d'you think we're being followed?"

Chaya spun around to stare him down. "What?"

"The bugs behind our ears. Do you think that they know what we're doing?"

Chaya shook her head. "Just tracking devices. No doubt Andross will want to know what we're doing, but we can always lie. Right?"

"Yeah, but I'm afraid there are microphones on these things. If so, he knows everything we say."

"I don't think so."

"Chay. Consider it?"

"Okay, maybe so. But there's nothing we can do, unless we're telepathic."

"We could type stuff out to each other."

"All the time? There's nothing we can do, Calan. Let's just find Semori and hope for the best. We might be dead by the end of the war anyway."

That scared Calan. Partly because she was starting to sound like him when he spoke about fate. Always skeptic. Also partly because he hadn't thought about his future very much lately, and knowing that he was in deep water with nearly a year gone since he'd arrived at Saturnalia. Andross was serious about this. The emperor would go through everything just to get power and glory over Lylat and prove to the "foolish" Cornerians how great he really was. Andross was smart. Calan could only pray the Lylatians were smarter.

They walked in silence until Chaya noticed that the crowds of people were beginning to thin out. The streets were more abandoned and homes and buildings were run-down and old. Pieces of paper flew through the street, scattered everywhere. There was an eerie quietness about the place.

"I think we're getting into the bad section," she quipped.

"Duh."

They walked a bit more and saw the statue of a Haissan empress, standing with her weight on one foot and her other leg stretching out a little in front of her. She held a scepter and seemed to clutch it with an iron fist. Quite like Andross did. Her gaze was completely capturing—she looked straight ahead, with eyes that flooded in the sky and an expression that showed tranquility. What was such a beautiful statue of this empress doing in the ghetto?

The ghetto, Chaya concluded, stretched on for another six blocks straight east, until they got into another part of the city, where the market stretched over to. The market seemed to go around the ghetto on purpose. Calan didn't like walking through this part of town, and he was glad he and Chaya bought the hooded robes. He already felt out of place. A couple of Haissan adults in tattered cloaks leered at the two. Their cold stares were felt like a piercing hot metal against his skin. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

"Chaya, let's go faster," he whispered. She nodded rapidly.

By the time they were clear of the ghetto, the statue's head was no longer visible above the crowds. Just as the crowd had thinned, it thickened. People swarmed everywhere, chattering in fast Kragglan. Calan and Chaya chose not to speak. Then they saw some white neon lights glittering with the Kragglan characters etched across it.

"That must be the Steel Magnolia," Calan noted. "After all, we're exactly where we're suppost to be. Let's check it out."

They found their way to the building and opened the doors. A man was seated behind a desk, sleeping. He looked young, about 28 years old, and had handsome features. His legs were propped up on an nearby table. His jet black robes were sprinkled with sand from the dirty streets, and his shoes looked more gray than black. There was nothing but a desk in front. That was the style of weaponry stores—go in the back and find your weapon with the owner. It was easier to prevent larceny that way.

"Excuse me," Calan murmured through the room. "Sir?"

The young man snapped away. He promptly swept his feet off the table and straightened up. He didn't bother to shake the robe of the sand. "Yes, yes, may I help you sir?"

"Are you Semori Daiu?"

The young man nodded. "At your service. How did you know my name? You are foreigners."

"A man by the name of Kaleel," said Calan.

"Kaleel!" Semori exclaimed, lurching forward to put his hands on the desk, making sand grains fall off. "Where did you meet him? He's been gone for three weeks past when he was suppost to return!"

Calan was glad Semori Daiu had no thick accent, and that his was clearer and more precise. His vocabulary was also superior to the merchant's. But he dreaded telling the story.

Chaya glanced at Calan and pulled down her hood. "Mr. Kaleel was at...somewhere."

"Somewhere? You cannot tell me?" Semori asked, quite bemused.

"We could, it's just that it's better if we don't." Calan shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Well, is he all right, then? We've been so worried. Kaleel is my good friend, and I know he was running some errands in Lylat. That is where you are from, is it not?"

"We are," agreed Chaya. "But something happened there."

"What is it?"

"Your friend..er...Kaleel...."

"He's dead," Calan finished.

Semori stared at the ground. "I feared it was so. I spent more time grieving last week. Kaleel is rarely late."

"We saw it happen. Well, he did," Chaya said, tilting her head to Calan.

"How did he die?" asked Semori solemnly.

"Gunshot wound to the head. It was a powerful laser. He didn't suffer. It was over quickly," confirmed Calan.

"Then I am happy about that. But now I have to seek revenge on his killer."

Calan and Chaya looked at each other.

"Why's that, Mr. Daiu?"

"Ancient Haissan custom. If someone kills your brother, you kill his brother. Nowadays it is not followed as well, only by the vengeful. The law usually takes care of murders by having them executed. I don't suppose Lylat has that?"

"Sometimes," answered Calan in deep thought.

"Good. I must find this murderer. Do you know his name?"

"Um...Andross Oikonny."

"Hm. That name sounds familiar. I wonder if I have heard it before."

"Can't imagine."

"Yes I have. That name. He was the man who tested experiments on citizens of Corneria, was he not? He killed many. I heard about it on the television. I thought they exiled him to that planet Venom."

"They did," said Chaya reluctantly. "But—"

"He could not have escaped, so Kaleel must have gone there himself. What a foolish thing to do! And there Andross Oikonny murdered my friend. I shall murder him as well."

"Mr. Daiu—"

"Please, call me Semori."

"Semori—I don't think you can murder him." Chaya stood as straight as she could. "You see, sir, Andross isn't really approachable."

"Why not? I cannot run through the jungle to assassinate him?"

"No. He's heavily guarded by two cities. He's the Emperor of Venom."

Semori's eyes widened. "Did you say, 'Emperor'? Of two cities? Oh gods! I cannot believe this!" He began to pace. "So the rumors were true! Kaleel must have felt honored to find that mythical place! That must hold the Mirror of Echoes!"

"Sir, don't go looking for Andross and certainly don't try to find the mirror," Calan warned. "It's only trouble for you. The mirror is useless now. No one in there knows the location of the Weapons of Strife. It was a fluke."

"Impossible." Semori waved him off. "Those weapons have to be somewhere. But I am more interested in the fact that this murder has his own empire. Does Corneria know of this?"

"Not yet, but later. Listen, we came here to arrange a way to leave Venom. Perhaps in future years, when we can get rid of the bugs Andross planted on us." Calan motioned to the back of his ear. Semori winced.

"Why do you need me? You got here somehow, so you must have transportation."

"Yes, but we need to get out in emergencies, okay? It's complicated. Also we need some weapons. Do you have any that we can stash away in our uniforms?"

Semori nodded and beckoned them to follow him. He lead them to the back, where he flipped a switch and the place came to life. Weapons of all shapes and sizes were shown. He swayed his head to the back door. "My wife and I run missions across the galaxy. We charge extra amount by how far away a person is from Jadoram. It takes time and much energy to go from one side of the galaxy to another, you see. My identical twin brother Tiponya helps me as well. Jumone and I have two children, both younger than eight years, so we must entrust them to the grandparents in case all three of us are away. Tiponya has a wife but they do not have a child yet. Soon, he says. In a few months. His wife doesn't fly, instead she is a storekeeper at the market. She sells fruit. They make much money when people buy her fruit." Semori pointed at the weapons. "All are at your disposal, if I can see the proper amount of credits."

Calan almost smiled. It would be expensive. He'd brought credits that some spies were able to steal and replicate so that Venomian officers could travel beyond Venom and still be able to operate. The Venomian credit, used by Saturnalians and Lupercalians, would have no value to the Outsiders.

"No problem. What do you have for pistols? Like weapons that a person can sneak into their pocket easily and kill like nothing killed ever killed before."

"A good assortment, sir," Semori replied. "Step to the right and examine the ones there. There is one that Tiponya and I developed ourselves. It is our pride and work. I will show you." Semori came over and picked up one of the smallest ones. "We call this the _Hatteis Bukusai._ It means, 'Enjoys death.' That is the weapon's name."

"Does it live up to its name?" asked Chaya with a mischievous grin.

"Of course it does. As you can see, it is silver, and lined with preciously hard metal. It takes very much weight to crush it. Secondly, the _Hatteis Bukusai_ can withstand harsh conditions, and even operate underwater or in space. The laser itself is small but ferocious. It delievers death on impact, if hit squarely in the brain. It might take a few seconds to a minute to fully kill the victim if they are in a laser-proof vest. But you should be able to kill with first hit. If that does not kill, I do not know what will."

"Is that the best one you have?" asked Chaya.

"The best pistol, if you want it. I will accept prices no less than five hundred credits."

"Shrewd businessman," remarked Calan.

"My wife Jumone is more so," Semori said with a twinkle in his eye. "Are you consent?"

"Yes. I'll buy one." Chaya dug through her uniform pockets underneath the robe. It was hot outside and a relief to be in a cold room.

"I will too," Calan added. He did the same.

Suddenly his comm link badge beeped. Calan thrust his hand inside his robe to find it.

"_Sir, Emperor Andross has asked us to report directly to Venom. There's something brewing and he wants us to be there._" It was the voice of Quincy.

Calan pressed the comm link. "Acknowledged. Quincy, did he say what it was about? We're kind of busy here."

"_No sir, but he said that it was very important. He wants members of his cabinet there. I _do _know that our emperor is going to send some scientists and a whole brigade of soldiers down to Zoness within the next few months. Other than that—_"

"How did you find that out? Did he tell you?"

"_Nope, heard it from his secretary. She told a friend of mine who told me in a text message. News flies, Captain. His Excellency will not be pleased if he finds out that she's been telling people things—so I suggest you keep the info to yourself. Are you in a secure location?_"

"Secure enough. Is that all?"

"_Should be for now, sir. All I can say is, hurry back. Wouldn't want to be late for that meeting._ _Andross is a genius scientist, you know. He's not a military man, but he's going to become one, and he knows more about war and weapons than anyone else ever did there. Quincy out._"

Calan looked at Chaya and then at Semori. "We've got to get going." They bought the weapons and as they were heading out, Calan said to Semori, "Just keep in mind that I will contact you sometime. It might not be tomorrow or the day after that. It might not be a month or a year from now. But someday I'll need your help, and I'm willing to offer you everything I can. Because it will be life or death for me and my friends."

"Whatever it takes, good sir. A thousand blessings to you."

"And to you, Mr. Daiu."

"This meeting will be brief if all things are cleared up properly and there are few interuptions. Need I remind you that your duty to me should be unquestioned. Our first mission is to disable the base on Zoness, temporarily. We will destroy their communications and lay siege on the base, taking all scientists hostage and killing any others. Leon Palowski is in charge of getting the information out of them, with whatever method he sees necessary—but we want them alive, Leon."

Leon nodded, with a flicker in his eyes. Calan knew he was fighting a grin.

Andross went on, "After we have complete control of Zoness, we will set up our scientists there and take over. The Cornerians will be baffled, of course, when they realize that different scientists are there. We will create fake I.D.s for our people there and tell Lylat that they were a small army brigade traveling in Lylat from an outlying colony of Jastarian—which does exist, by the way, but there are fewer people there than on Zoness." Andross smiled to this. "Jastarian people will not likely be contacted because they are a separate government from Lylat, and the Lylatians know that they are quite remote and therefore aren't worthy of checking with."

"Sir," interrupted Tucker, "what will we do with the other scientists? What will we tell Lylat?"

"An excellent question. We tell them that their base was overrun with a deadly toxin. We won't have this deadly toxin, but we can always lie, my friends. They won't know the difference."

"Who all is going?" asked Brizius.

"I have a list already made for the occasion. But we won't put our plan to work for at least two years. For now we are working on building our forces. I have a mission for two of our loyal citizens to be spies in Corneria. They will remain there until our Venomian forces set foot on Corneria and claim it as our own. At that time I will arrange for the executions of General Pepper and Admiral Peregrine." Andross looked hungry for the moment.

"Brilliant, Excellency," commented Brizius.

"Thank you, Otto."

Forrest broke in. "What if the spies are caught?"

"Then they will die without telling a thing. We've been through loyalty issues before, Forrest."

"Sorry, sire. Then what else can we do?"

"Turn Area 6 into a defensive base and Bolse into one of our satillites, of course. Lylat doesn't use them, anyway, and Area 6 is a junk-yard. Once our armies advance, we'll move in. But only then."

"What if the Lylatians figure out that we aren't Jastarians? We don't have their culture written down, do we?"

"Forrest, one cannot write one's culture on paper or on a monitor. I've thought this through four months ago and sent a few agents to study Jastarian. They report that there is much fighting and bloodshed by the two ethnic groups there...it's quite a busy place. Lylat won't question us going to Zoness to do our work instead of there."

"Of course, Highness."

Andross watched everyone else at the table. "Are all of you clear on this?"

"Yes," came the replies. None were hesitant.

"Good," said Andross, smiling. "Good."


	8. The Imprisoned

Chapter 8:

_The Imprisoned_

November 1, 2671

Three Years Later

India was leaning back in her passenger's seat, surrounded by other scientists in the large transport. Zoness was a pretty place, she had heard, and with all the excitement generating in the craft, she hoped her travel would be worth it.

They'd been traveling for a few days at a slow warp to avoid any detection whatsoever. There was another craft full of soldiers flying in front of them. Some hackers were working to disable the communication satillites, and if that didn't work, they would have to destroy them. The cover up story? There wasn't one. The third craft carried large communication satillites to set up around Zoness—identical to the original ones—so that Andross and the rest of the Venomian Alliance could have access to communicate with Corneria to find out plans. The Lylatians would never know the difference.

India looked sideways at one of the other scientists, a man she had befriended just days before. He was a black and gray striped domestic cat of 30 years of age. His aqua green eyes were captivating, like Zoness itself. Dr. Schuyler Shellhorn was overall good looking. One of the better looking scientists on the ship. She'd been told that he also was a medical doctor. Very accomplished. India wanted to know more about him—and she wondered if Quincy would approve. She and Quincy had been dating for the last three years.

She leaned toward him. He looked up from his newspaper, labled the Medaja Jastarian Voice, one of the Medaja papers. Dr. Shellhorn had come from a project in Jastarian.

"Hi," said India shyly, even though she'd talked to him before. "I noticed that was a Jastarian paper. Was your work very hard there?"

Schuyler nodded. "It was mostly dangerous, though. I had to study toxins and waste. I have a feeling Andross is going to use Zoness for something bad."

"Why?"

He crinkled his nose a little. "I just know."

India slightly tilted her head in agreement. Of course, she had no idea on how he would know that or if he was guessing, but really she just wanted to strike up an interesting conversation.

"So," she started again, "was Jastarian nice?"

"Yeah, it was great." He smiled at her, revealing white teeth. "I really liked the weather. It was always temperate, around 40 to 80 degrees and not much else. It rains a lot there. Quite like Corneria. The equator is a bit warmer. I was in the western part of the continent—Jastarian only has one continent, and a large one at that."

"Did the fighting get in the way?"

"Sort of." Schuyler frowned. "A lot of people I met were injured in a blast by Isunites. You know, with the Isunites and the Medajans going at each other all the time...the two ethnic groups are always fighting. Someone needs to stop them before their fighting goes nuclear."

"I'm sorry friends of yours were hurt. Were they Medajans or Lylatians?"

"A little of both. Another man farther away, a Medajan, died."

India shuddered. "I'm glad Lylat is far away from there."

Schuyler shrugged and put away the newspaper. "It doesn't matter anymore. Andross is going to wage war in two years or so."

"How do you know that?"

"I have my ways." He winked at her and cocked his head toward the planet. "So, ready to siege and destroy?"

"Not really," India said with a sigh. "I'm afraid about what will happen if we've been underestimating them all along. You know there are a few soldiers there to protect the scientists."

"I know. Let's just hope Star Fox isn't nearby. If they are, our cover is blown and we're all screwed."

"True." India was about to say something else when the intercom went off and a man's deep voice rang throughout the ship.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to disembark_ _and land on Christo Environmental Base. You will be advised to participate in the siege when the soldiers are able to open the base. Dr. Jochum—_" (pronounced JOE-cum) "_—will destroy the communication relay located on top of the base and help give blueprint instructions to the soldier transporter ship, where General Brizius_ _will be waiting to start the siege. Remember, you must not let them know that you are not Jastarian. You've had your training and know your job. Our emperor sends his best wishes to all of you and knows you will get it done properly._"

India pulled out her I.D. card and put it around her neck as a necklace. Schuyler did the same. Her card read, _Mitzi Hara, Medajan Marine Biologist of Pedrell. _Since she was a canine, she had to be Medajan, because only Medajans are canine. Schuyler, however, had to be a Isunite, because they were felines. His read,_ Zo Chakusola_, _Isunite Chemist of Rai Lakar._

"Ready?" India asked him.

"Yup. Hope that all goes well and they don't suspect us."

"Pray, you mean."

"Right."

The ship cruised straight for the atmosphere. India closed her eyes for the whole process, knowing all too well that the protection of the soldier ship was going to be thousands of miles away now. Everyone was silent. She could hear Schuyler's breathing, the groans of the ship's engines, and the sound of a burning atmosphere outside. Soon the Lylatians would see them. India tried to relax herself. She'd be seeing some real Lylatians, ones that were Outsiders, innocent of all crimes. She knew Calan. But that was different. These were people totally oblivious of Saturnalia and Lupercalia, and the new empire forming right underneath their noses. They'd know soon enough. Star Wolf would be arriving to siege with the soldier transporter to help destroy all of the four communication satillites. But first, the scientists had to disable the relay and make it nearly impossible for the enemy to escape.Then the dirty work would really begin. Andross intended on putting Leon in charge of getting information out of the men and women there. That meant someone was going to be in some sort of pain very soon. India couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something that Andross wanted that the scientists knew.

The transporter came down on a light blue ocean. They could see some land on the horizon. The clouds looked Cornerian, India thought, just by looking at them. She'd only seen Cornerian clouds in a book. It was a beautiful planet. She hoped that Schuyler's thoughts on Andross' plans wouldn't come true.

The island continent they were going to land on was coming in view. A building was sitting alone, surrounded by a small arsenal–-or what looked like one—and the communications relay, which looked a bit like a satillite disk. The spherical white dish had a large pole-like rod sticking out in the middle, sending signals to the outer satillites.

"_Transporter One, the disabling mission was successful_. _Prepare to unload your passengers to the base._"

India perked up and looked around. The other scientists were getting out their I.D.s and holding their bags on their laps. Schuyler merely yawned.

The craft came in for a landing right next to the base. The Cornerian scientists wouldn't know where a Rostik was from, as it was totally new. Hopefully they would buy the fact that it was a Jastarian transporter taking refugee scientists to safety.

As people began to get up and step off, India noticed a man running toward them. She peered at him closely through her window. Schuyler tapped her shoulder and she followed him off, swing her bag over her shoulder.

"Who are you?" demanded the man.

"Jastarian refugees," answered the pilot. "These people are all scientists."

"Jastarian refugees? Where is Jastaria?"

"_Jastarian_," corrected the pilot. "It's quite far away. We were just trying to escape from some Medajan guerillas."

"Ah," said the man, clearly clueless. "Well, I suppose you are welcome to–-er—stay here."

"Thank you." The pilot headed back on board while the men and women piled off with their things. All were felines or canines, which was why they were especially picked by Andross to serve at Zoness.

Dr. Jochum was a Doberman who disliked to be called a 'fool' by anyone, including Andross, and didn't hide it. He was more arrogant than most. Jochum considered it an honor to be able to disable the relay and let General Brizius know when to attack.

Jochum was first up to talk with the head of the base, a woman named Delaney Finch. She was a goat like Korrigan, only with darker eyes. She stared at the man with a look of utmost disgust that some refugees had landed at her base.

"Mr....?"

"Jochum, ma'am. Pascual Jochum of Corneria." _What a liar!_ India thought. His real name really was Pascual Jochum, but he definitely wasn't from Corneria.

"Okay then, Mr. Jochum, where did you get these people and why are you on my base? I thought we were to be in isolation for awhile...."

"You were, but I brought over some of my Jastarian colleagues in order to escape from Medajan terrorists. Unfortunately, they were willing to sacrifice some of their own just to kill Isunites. And so we fled. We are hoping to study here, as it is most dangerous on Jastarian."

"I see," murmured Finch. "Would you perhaps be leaving soon? You'll have to use your own ship. Our communications are down right now." _So the plan had worked...._

"We will stay only as long as we have to," answered Jochum, with a strange hint of what was ahead. Apparently Finch didn't catch it. She only nodded and asked them to join the others in the main hallway. And with that, they entered the base.

Jochum was lead around the building. Meanwhile, India and Schuyler busied themselves with chugging cups of water. They were thirsty from the trip. India leaned against the wall in the hallway, which was the only place for them to stay. She closed her eyes and waited. In an hour or so, they would be taking over the base, and removing the weapons from their bags. A few more were stocked on the transporter ship, where the pilot patiently guarded it. And with those thoughts, she fell asleep.

"Is it done?" Brizius demanded of his officers.

"No sir," answered one. "But Jochum just informed us that he's close to the relay. Any minute now, and their systems are down. The soldiers are getting restless."

"The scientists should be sufficient enough for the slaughter," Brizius said sharply.

"But sir, we don't want to slaughter them, do we?" asked another.

"That's where you're wrong, idiot. We kill the resistors, and most will probably resist. Leon wants to take care of the rest."

"Sir!" one of the aides yelled. "It's started! Jochum has it shut down!"

Brizius jumped up. "Bring us down there, now!!" he snarled. Everyone dashed to their positions without an excuse.

Someone was shaking her awake. India opened her eyes slowly until she heard Schuyler shout, "GET UP!" Immidiately she jumped up and gasped. "It's time!" Schuyler ripped open his bag and pulled out a A-L 70, one of the automatic laser guns. "Time to party."

A few other men and women were tearing down the hallway, looking for Lylatians to either kill or capture. Star Wolf would be here any minute, along with the rest of the soldiers.

It took India a couple of seconds to realize what was going on and that she needed to follow. She whipped out her A-L 70 and tore down the a hallway. She didn't actually plan on killing anyone, unless they tried to kill her first.

India ran into a dark hallway. All the others seemed to have avoided it. She blew open a door and found man pouring something into a beaker. He dropped it and spun around.

"On the floor!! NOW!!" roared India, waving her gun.

The man fell to his knees. "What—?"

"Shut up!" snapped India. "Hands over your head." He obeyed. "Now, get up slowly and show me your back. If you try to run, I'll shoot you. And if I miss, don't think that you'll escape here alive. One of my comrades will probably do you in. Obey my rules, and you live. Is that understood?"

"Yes," the man whispered. "Just don't kill me...."

"Then get moving!" India tapped the butt of her gun into his back. He moved as straight as he could, with his hands behind his head. A few other people were being herded by the Venomians, straight to the transport that had previously carried the "Jastarian refugees". India had no intention of taking him all the way there, even if she would have liked it. Jochum came out with his weapon strap slung around his neck. His right hand rested on the trigger. "I'll take him from here," Jochum offered. India nodded and turned back toward another hallway, this one lighter. She thought of the bunk rooms, where the Cornerians slept. Perhaps some were in there.

India kicked open an old rusty door and heard some screams. Three people were in the room, cowering on the floor by the corner. One was Delaney Finch. The others were shorter, also middle aged.

"GET DOWN!" roared India, waving her gun.

Finch screamed, "NO!"

"DO IT OR YOU DIE!" India bellowed with as much anger as she could muster out.

She shook her head, holding her hands against the others as if pushing them back. "I knew something was odd about you," she said softly, like a hiss. "As soon as you set foot in our base, there was something about you...I couldn't put my finger on it...but now I know...you're not Jastarians!"

"Shut up and get in front of me!" India snapped.

Delaney picked up a transmitter and hurled it at India. It smacked her right in the arm.

"You just signed your death warrant!" India came forward and jammed her gun into Delaney's arm. "Get going, and bring the other two with you."

Finch suddenly kicked India in leg, while the man in back of her swung his arm across her back. India fell to the floor, gasping for air and wincing in pain. The three broke in a run down the hallway.

"Son of a bitch!" India cursed, as she got up and tore after them. She fired in their direction and saw Finch go down. The man next to her was also hit. Only the other woman was still moving.

India caught up to Finch and kicked her over. She leaned down to feel a pulse. There was a faint one. Delaney had been shot in her lower waist on her backside. The man was dead, India could tell. He was quite limp and hadn't moved since he fell down. There was a burn mark on the back of his head. India sighed and pressed her comm link. She hadn't meant to kill him. "Dr. Jochum, I have Delaney Fitch in my custody, but she's injured after she tried to escape. Another man is dead. The woman with them escaped, but she won't get far. I need a medical team to come down to Section 4, by the Marine Biology lab."

Jochum's voice crackled back, "_Will do. Leave her there, if she's injured. She won't be moving. Help us get some more of the runaways back to the transport ship. Hopefully we can get some cooperation." _

"Where should I go first?"

"_Section 7. No one is down there yet, according to my radar. Head back to the main hallway and give your report to Dr. Shellhorn, and then hurry on down the section. Jochum out._"

India got up and jogged down the hallway, her weapon hitting her arm every step. It was starting to hurt. And so did her back.

By the time she reached the middle of the base, her comrades were hauling back their victims to the center hallway where they themselves had been forced to stay. India saw Schuyler surveying one woman, who was in critical pain as she had been shot in the arm. She'd be wishing she could die from that wound, if she didn't cooperate with Leon.

India waved at Schuyler. "Got one, did you?"

He nodded and scribbled something on his notepad. "I need a name, lady," he said to the woman. She looked about 30 years old.

"Lieschen Heise."

"Interesting name."

"You should know," the woman muttered. "You're Jastarian, right? Dirty bastard." She held out her I.D. card.

Schuyler chuckled and took the card. He shoved it in one of his pockets of his scientist's jacket. It was white, but there were spots of blood on the front. Someone else's, presumably. "So, India, did you get yourself one?"

India nodded, patting her gun. "I got the leader, Finch. She's injured in Section 4. I had to contact Jochum by comm link to get a med team down there. I also killed the guy next to her, and the other woman escaped. But we know she won't get far. She might be dead right now or in someone else's care."

Schuyler glanced at Lieschen Heise and back at India. "I wonder what your boyfriend thinks, when he finds out his woman is a murdering bitch."

"I'm sure he thinks nothing of it," India said. "Look, I gotta run. Stay here and I'll try to find you after all this. I'm suppost to head to Section 7 to find more runaways."

"No one's down there," said Lieschen suddenly.

"Is that so?" India spun around to look at her. "You lyin' to me?"

Lieschen answered too fast to be true. "No! Look, you've got all of us and killed many more, so why don't you just give it a rest, huh?"

"Because, prisoner, I don't believe you, and our job is not finished." India took off down to Section 7. It was unusually dark. Whenever India had passed by, it was light. Now it was dark. She had a hunch as to why, but first she needed to test it out. There were two doors at the end of the hallway. She leaned up against one to listen. Nothing. She leaned against the other. Also nothing. Had to be a faux silence. She tapped the comm link.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but are there any heat signs in the two compartments down Section 7?"

Jochum checked and replied through a little static. "_Yes, it looks like it. About five life signs, all in the left compartment. I'd be careful. One of them could be armed._"

"Where are you, Doctor?"

"_Coming right at you down the other side of the hallway. It's just me, so don't try anything stupid. I'm comin' down to help. Now don't bother me again unless it's important. Jochum out._"

India waited by the door. A minute later, Jochum's faint shadow appeared. She could see only the features on the left side of his face, as the hallway was extremely dark.

"I think the generator is in there," India said, tapping on the door lightly. "Otherwise the lights wouldn't be out. A few hours ago they were on."

"Nice observance." Jochum entered something in the key pad to the door and it slid open. They slowly proceeded in.

This room was almost pitch-black. Jochum slammed his fist–-or hand, India couldn't see—into something. The lights flickered on. It was a marine laboratory. There were at least three aquariums filled with fish and one with a ray in front of them, and some on both sides. On the other side of the room were more tanks, all of these very large and there was a narrow walking space in between them. This had to be a huge room, because as India looked, she couldn't see the other side of her left or her right.

Jochum beckoned her over and whispered, "Take the left and I'll take the right. Our friends are hidden in here, trying to evade us."

India nodded. She slowly walked left, between an eel tank and tropical fish tank. These large transparent aquariums held gallons upon gallons of water, and India wondered how much would spill out if she shot at the glass. Lasers as strong as her A-L 70 could burn large holes into the glass, if she fired enough times.

"Come out and play!" she called. No one answered back. The prey was hiding somewhere.

Just then she saw a shoe move from behind the second ray tank. Upon impulse, India fired right at the tank. It took three hits until the tank shattered and blew water everywhere. It came up to her ankles as the water sloshed around the room like a tidal wave. She heard a yelp and saw the man dash behind another tank.

"You can't run!" India shouted out to him. She shot at another eel tank. This time, the eels flopped around and went limp when they hit a surrounding tank.

"GODDAMN IT!" India heard Jochum swear. One of the tanks on the other side had blown out, and the water was flying everywhere. Now India felt the water seeping into her shoes. Some crunching of broken glass, and the man in front of her had fallen over. He was trying to get up. India dashed over as quick as she could and hit his back with her gun. He fell down again. She seized his shirt and yelled, "Going somewhere?! Follow my rules and I'll let you live." She slammed him down on the floor again. India hated being so brutal, but she had to be. The man took a swing at her when he rolled over. His fist hit India in head.

Her head throbbed terribly, and she felt a trickle of blood. India was now mad. She aimed her gun at his head and screamed, "WANNA TRY THAT AGAIN?!"

The ape shook his head and tried to back up away from her. "You cold-hearted b—"

A blast from the tank next to them made India duck away and cut off the man's words. Water hit them both, but luckily the glass fell straight down and away from them.

"TAKE THAT!" bellowed someone's voice, a female.

India had in mind to find Jochum, but there was no time. She whirled around and shot everything in front of her—actually, everything standing up in a 360 degree radius. All the tanks around her began to shatter to pieces. Water and sea-animals gushed everywhere. But India didn't care. Her back hurt, her arm hurt, her head hurt the most of all, and she was pissed off.

A laugh. The same female. "Now who's the hunted, Jastarian?"

India replied in a similarly cold tone, "I'm no Jastarian, little miss, but I'll make you wish I was one when I'm finished."

"Then what are you?" Her voice was from the right side. The man's breathing was harsh and quick, as he lay on the floor to her left. India knew the woman, whoever she was, was lurking very near, hoping to distract India away from the man. And what the hell was Jochum doing with the other three?

"I'm a Venomian, you annoying little shit. Come on out, I don't bite too hard."

"Venomian?" She sounded aghast. "From Venom?"

"Duh." India slowly shoved away glass with her shoe and continued to her left.

The woman sounded like she was scrambling on the floor. A dangerous thing to do, with glass laying everywhere. India jumped on top of the tank platform in front of her and aimed down. She'd chosen the right one. The woman screamed and was on her feet in no time. India shot her in the leg and leaped down beside her. She swept up the woman's gun and threw it clear across the room.

"Hah, I win!" India grinned and flashed a malicious smile. "Game over."

The woman breathed in and heaved out sentence, all in one big snarl. "Found me, didn't you, you piece of—!"

"Shh!" interrupted India. "Wouldn't want to spoil the surpise awaiting your friends. If you're lucky, you'll get assigned someone more humane than my friend Leon Palowski."

The woman's eyes widened in terror. "You work with Star Wolf?" she whispered.

India only smiled heinously. "He's just a little more sinister than I. Now get up and take your friend with you."

"My leg is injured. I can't move."

"Fine." India rolled her eyes and pressed her comm link. "Harris to Med team, we have a situation in Section 7 at the Marine Lab. We need some immidiate attention here. I can carry only one of the victims, and I need to check up on Dr. Jochum to see if he can carry another. So there's at least three stretchers that need to be brought here."

"_We copy, Doctor. Stand by._ _Med out_."

The woman let out a short laugh. "Who was that?"

"None of your business," snapped India. "I'll carry you or your friend, so make a choice. It's me or the med team, where you'll be strapped down tight in a stretcher. Can you stand me?"

"You," said the woman quickly.

"Good. Don't try to escape, because in your condition, it would be foolhardy, and I would not hesitate in killing you, or your friend. I know there are three others in this room, and hopefully my friend Jochum has them covered." India stopped, listening. She could hear some rustling on the other side, but didn't hear Jochum at all. His outburst minutes before was starting to worry her.

"I'll need your I.D. card when I ship you to Medical, so make sure you know where it's out. Because if you try to lie, it won't work. You either tell us or we'll beat it out of you."

The woman nodded. India caught her staring at her uniform. "Are you a scientist?" she asked.

India cocked her head. "Yes."

"Why are you trying to kill us?"

"I'm not. Now shut up so I can hear. I'll be right back. If you move and I find you in a different spot than last time, I'm after your hide. Don't think I won't do it."

India didn't bother to listen to her reply. She crushed more glass under her feet and prayed her boots were thick enough. So far they were. She wiped some of the blood away from her forehead and held a finger against the wound. It stung, but so did the rest of her head. Some dried blood was on the side of her face. It was a pain in the ass to try and clean up from fur.

"Jochum?" she called out.

"Over here," came his muffled voice. Not all the tanks had been blown out on the right side of the room.

"You okay?"

"Sort of. I'm shot in the waist, but I can walk. The other three are out cold. One was hit by a ray when I shot the tank—she'll live. The guy next to me I had to knock out myself with my gun. He's going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up. The other guy is fine—I think he fainted or something. I accidentally shot a gas tank next to him. I think it was the stuff that knocks you out when you're having a surgery done on you...Menorin, is what the Cornerians call it...." He took a deep breath and got up. He was soaked and had some blood on his fist. "Not mine," he added, seeing India's expression. "The other guy's. It's his own fault. He shot me first, so I got mad and kicked the bejeezus outta him." Jochum pointed at the gun, which was laying by a large tropical fish a few yards away.

India asked him, "Do you think you can carry one?"

"Me? Sure. I'm still in shape." Jochum wiped his bleeding lip off. "For a 53 year old."

"But your injury—"

"Doesn't make a difference, Harris." He bent over and grabbed Punching Man by the shoulders. "Don't just stand there, Doctor!" he barked mildly.

India hurried back to the other side. What a stubborn idiot. She found the woman laying in the same position. "Good, you listened for once. My other victims didn't bother and they suffered the consequences."

The woman smirked. "I only didn't move because my leg would have stopped me."

"Why, can't feel it?"

"No. Can't feel anything there."

"Well, that's probably for your own sake, because when the numbness wears off, it's going to hurt." India bent down and helped the woman up. Her arm went around India's shoulder, and they slowly started to walk. She met Jochum by the door. He was having a harder time, since his victim was knocked out cold and couldn't help with the load.

As they walked (or rather, limped) back to the main hallway, India thought it might be helpful to ask the woman questions. She was a domestic cat, with black fur and green eyes.

"So...what's your name?" India asked her.

"If I don't tell you, will you shoot me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't know yet."

India thought it was an honest answer. What was coming for her wouldn't be heaven.

"Well, tell me your name anyway, because Leon will beat it out of you otherwise. Now, I'm sure you'd much rather have me ask you than him."

"True," said the woman, wincing from the injury in her leg.

"I'm not really that much of a bad person."

"Really? I couldn't tell." There was a trace of satire in her voice.

"It's my job," said India.

"To what? Kill and terrorize people?"

"No, this is just a temporary assignment. You'll see."

"Harris!" Jochum barked from behind. "Quit socializing with the prisoners! Ask them important things!"

"Sorry sir!" India called over her shoulder. "What's your name?" she asked the woman.

The cat sighed. "Fine. I guess it's no use to hold it off any longer. Olivia Paige. And if you do anything to me—you, your friend back there, or Leon Palowski—anything—"

"You'll what? Attack us?" India laughed. "Don't be stupid."

"There can't be that many of you!"

"Wanna try seven million strong?"

Olivia Paige's jaw dropped. "Where—how—?"

"You'll see when you get there. Schuyler!"

Schuyler turned around. India was finally in the main hallway, pulling Olivia along with her. Jochum was a little farther behind.

"Finally! I was worried for a while there," Schuyler said, whipping out his notepad again. "I've taken a look at probably twenty-five prisoners who tried to escape. All of them have their share of injury. The smart ones are over in that corner. They are the only ones I haven't had to look at. And then there's the dead ones. Luckily only five people—including the one you got—are dead. And they don't have very much information, either."

"Well, it was no picnic with these people, either," India said, tilting her head to Olivia. "Jochum and I took out five of them, no casualties, but all have one injury or another. The other three are out cold in the lab. Med teams should be there by now."

"Good," Schuyler said. He glanced at Olivia, who shot him a spiteful look. "Name?"

"Olivia Paige," she muttered, clearly disgusted.

"Thank you. Let's take a look at that wound. You'll be more comfortable if you sit down."

India helped her sit, but Olivia beat back with an arm right into India's stomach. _I deserved that one, _she thought. Olivia sat herself down and looked as if she'd like nothing better than to attack Schuyler.

Schuyler took out a stethoscope and checked her heart beat.

"Don't touch me," growled Olivia.

"Miss Paige, I'm a medical doctor," Schuyler said reassuringly, "not a soldier. I won't do anything to hurt you."

"I hope not!" she snapped back. "Seems I'll have someone else to do me in later on!"

Schuyler looked at India with inquiry. "Did you mention that someone to her?" he asked.

"Sort of. Yes." India uttered a sigh. "It was in the heat of the moment and I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

Schuyler didn't reply. He only checked over Olivia's wound. "Damaged nerves. No wonder you aren't feeling anything. Ah. Later you will. The others will. Tissue damage as well. The only thing I can suggest for you in recovery is to drink a lot of fluids and get rest for that leg. Don't use it unless you have to."

"Where would I go?" Olivia asked wryly.

"Exactly." Schuyler stood up. "You'll want to take a nap before the prison ship arrives."

"Prison ship?!"

Schuyler actually laughed. "What? Don't tell me you weren't expecting this!"

"Not until a half an hour ago when I heard gunshots, no," Olivia said, with a startled expression.

"Miss Paige, you amaze me. Quite naïve of you to think that we honestly just came for slaughter. We really did not wish to kill anyone. But you bring this upon yourself by resisting, and so five people are dead and over half of you are injured. Who's fault is that?"

"The people that frickin' shot me!" Olivia shouted at him.

Schuyler shook his head in disbelief. "Leon will have fun with you."

India frowned. "That what I'm afraid of."

"We can't do anything about it, Doctor." Schuyler straightened his jacket. "Honestly, if I could be anywhere, it would be on Corneria in my grandmother's cabana near the Caiman Islands."

India nodded. "I'd forgotten you were Cornerian. It's too bad you were summoned by Andross. Why didn't you run?"

Olivia and Lieschen were left out, but they looked as if they were closely listening.

Schuyler was silent for a few seconds. "I didn't think running from a problem would get me anywhere," he said finally. "Andross would get me, one way or another. Now that I knew who he was and that he was trying to contact me, to get him on my side, it was just a matter of time. If I ran, what then? He'd make sure I was dead before I could tell the Cornerian government that something was up. So I told him that I'd come by and check stuff out, knowing all too well what could happen. That was then. Now? Now I have a bug behind my ear and a filthy tatoo. I didn't want it and I struggled. Punched the tatooist and kicked the other one in the shin. So they knocked me out with a powerful tranquilizer drug—actually I think it was Menorin—and did it while I was out cold. When I woke up, I had a terrific headache and a red tatoo on my arm."

"You never told me all this."

"Why? It's irrelevant now." Schuyler wrapped his hand around the stethoscope. "I'm just a doctor."

Lieschen raised her hand and managed to croak out, "Who the hell is Andross?"

Both India and Schuyler looked down at her. "Wouldn't you like to know," said India. "Your new emperor."

A Week Later

Calan was itchy in his seat next to Leon. He didn't understand why Andross had to put _him_—of all people—there, next to Leon, while he beat up prisoners for information. He supposed it was to express Andross' complete and absolute power as emperor. Calan only wished he was somewhere else.

Leon, however, couldn't wait to get started. Calan had never seen him so jumpy. The seat on the other side of Leon was Wolf's—and he was late. Leon was impatient and was pacing around the room. Calan decided to not interfere.

The room was dark, except for a single lightbulb in the middle of the prisoner's room. A chair was underneath that, with leather straps on the chair to hold the unlucky prisoner down. Behind them were the prison bars, so that people might pass by. Not many did. They knew it was the torture chamber.

"Care to discuss what you'll be doing?" asked Calan.

Leon scratched his arm. "Not especially."

"Mentally or physically, at least? I don't want to witness gross stuff."

"Mentally first. If I can get answers out quickly, then I won't have to."

"But you want to."

Leon glared back at Calan. "_Maybe_, maybe I just might like it."

Calan rolled his eyes. "Fine. If Wolf isn't here in a few minutes...."

But he was. Wolf came in, dressed in fully black and some black leather that stretched tightly, matting down some of his fur underneath. His black eyepatch had a melancholy look to it. He actually looked stiff and angry. But then, Wolf was always angry now. Or at least, he was darker. Dressed in black most of the time, and he rarely smiled anymore. Calan didn't like to watch a friend go downhill like that. Maybe Wolf was depressed, but that didn't seem possible. His medical records were fine.

"About time!" Leon said sharply, slamming his suitcase on the table. Wolf didn't say anything. He slid into his seat next to Calan and didn't make any eye contact.

"Hector! Get the prisoner!" Leon spat to the comm link. Hector answered right away. A few minutes later, the first victim arrived. She was a panther, by the looks of it, and she was a cougar-colored one. She had darker black features and brown-gold on her back. There were two dark stripes on her face of gold and brown. She had emerald green eyes and was very pretty. Even when she wore a look of disgust and fear.

Hector strapped her in without even a fight. She sat limp in the chair and stared at the table legs. Hector left quickly.

"Miss....?" Calan began, tapping his papers with a pen. He was the unfortunate one to take notes.

"Heise. Lieschen Heise."

Leon smiled. "Pretty name. For a pretty lady."

Lieschen scowled. "Quit with the fake compliments, Leon. I know who you are and what you want to do."

"Strong, I see." Leon paced in front of her. "In the records, Dr. Shellhorn has you as a 'paranoid person'. Is that so?"

"Of you, maybe."

"Hm. Why aren't you acting afraid? Because you should be."

"Maybe because I'm not guilty of anything."

Leon stopped in front of her. "I'm sure you have information...."

"About what? Dolphins?" There was a trace of sarcasm and satire—maybe both.

Leon knelt to Lieschen's level. He glared back with his dark eyes and said softly, "We shall see what you know." He rose again and went to his briefcase. "Miss Heise, are you aware of who these other two fine gentlemen are?" He took out one of Andross' famed NIDs.

"Yes."

"Who are they?" he asked, holding the device in one hand and a chip in the other. Calan stole a glance at Wolf. He stared straight ahead, emotionless.

"Well. I know that one. He's Wolf O'Donnell. Famed mercenary captain of Star Wolf team. I don't know the other one."

"Good, good." Leon stepped behind her and she turned her head to follow him in her gaze.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Planting a bug," said Leon simply.

Lieschen jerked away as far as possible. "Hell no! Get away!"

Leon laughed. "Not on your life. Now hold still or I'll have to deal with you painfully."

Lieschen snarled, "Never! I bet you plant those on all your prisoners just so you can torture 'em! I'll never submit willingly! You'll have to kill me first!!"

Leon chuckled and tapped the bug on his own chameleon-like ear. "They're so fashionable that everyone gets one. See mine? Even Captain O'Donnell and Captain Porter have them."

It didn't calm her down any. "Why?"

"Because our emperor likes to keep track of us. His Majesty will not have to worry about the loyal ones. Which is why he puts me in charge of the prisoners." Leon smiled maliciously. "You're in good hands with me."

"I don't think so. Let me go!"

"Why?" Leon tried to hold her head still, but she jerked. He was growing angry. Leon swiped the back of her head with a hand. She winced and stopped moving. He started to put it in. "Sooner or later, Miss Heise, you'll learn to listen to me. Now, I'm going to plant this bug on the back of your ear. I suggest you do not try to remove it. That will result in your death. Trust me on this. A prisoner I had yesterday tried it and the guards found him dead in his cell this morning. Captain Porter, when is Finch set to be interrogated?"

"After this prisoner."

"Thank you. I'm sure she'll give us all the information we need." Leon finished planting the bug and stepped away. "That's all I need with you today, Miss Heise."

She opened her eyes slowly. "What?" Lieschen sputtered in disbelief. "That's—that's it? You're letting me go?"

"For now." Leon folded his arms. "Before I summon Hector, I want to show you a special device developed by the emperor. He calls it a NID, or 'Nerve Inhibitor Device'. You'll find it lives up to its name." Leon held out the device.

Lieschen eyed it carefully. "What's that do?"

"Inflicts pain upon an unlucky prisoner. It triggers the bug behind your ear, which by now has wired itself into your nerves. The pain is quite severe. Captain Porter can tell you about that." Leon gave a wily look to Calan before he turned back to the prisoner.

Lieschen was amused. "So, you guys are affected, too? If I used it on you, you'd go down like a dead fly?"

Leon smiled malevolently. "You may think of it that way, but if you don't know how to trigger it to a certain person, you may well hurt yourself and everyone else in the room. I'd be careful. Besides, only a select number of people have NIDs. Loyalists, of course. People the Great One trusts."

"Great One? The only great thing about this guy is that he has the brains to give it to everyone but himself. Don't you think that's a bit genius?"

"Miss Heise. Lieschen. Don't make me angry. You might be inexperienced, but I am not." Leon tapped the back of the NID and leaned against the table. He activated the comm link and murmured, "Hector, come down and take away the prisoner. Prepare to bring in Finch for interrogation."

"_Yessir_."

When Hector came to unstrap Lieschen and cuff her, Leon gave a wink at her. She scowled. "Have a nice day, Miss Heise," called Leon. "You will need it!"

It was not the last of Lieschen Heise.

Lieschen's cell was adjacent to a woman named Olivia Paige. Her cell, on the right of Lieschen's, was darker. There were two green lights on the ceiling, but both were to the left and farther away. Olivia's was at the very end of the hallway. And Lieschen's was right next to that.

Other prisoners were quiet. The man that Lieschen had tried to escape with, a guy by the name of Nestor Moriell. He was a oriole of about sixty years of age. Previous to this, he had been a sucessful scientist at Zoness, spending a total of fifteen years there. Nestor's records on Corneria showed that he was a man of great conscience and a born leader. Now he sat in his cell, back against the wall and hands in his lap, sleeping.

Lieschen scrambled up near the forcefield and whispered, "Psst! Nestor!"

Nestor fluttered an eyelid. "...unghhhh...huh?"

"It's Lieschen! You won't believe this!"

Nestor breathed deeply in the night air. A single vent in the ceiling above showed stars and a black sky. "What won't I believe?" he asked sluggishly, having slept for hours.

"A bug. They're planting bugs on us!"

Nestor was wide awake then. "Bugs?!"

"Yes!" Lieschen tapped her ear and tried to show him, pushing aside her fur so he could see. "Look—right there. Leon planted it on me."

"That bastard. Can you get it off?"

"No, but neither can they! It seems that everyone on this damn planet has one, including the loyalists! It's how Andross keeps control of his people, by brute force! He has a Nerve Inhibitor Device that causes severe pain to people who oppose him. The bugs they plant on us are wired into our nervous system, so that he can use it on only people with the chips! You don't have one yet, but you will soon."

"Anyway to prevent getting one?"

"No. I tried to jerk away, but they have you strapped down in a chair so you can't resist. I got smacked across the back of my head for trying to get away from it. Leon's work. It still hurts."

"Is there any hope for us?"

"Not unless you can get us out."

Nestor shook his head. "I don't think so. I'd like to, but there's no way out. Maybe there's still a chance."

Just then the door down the hallway slid open. They heard some shouting. It woke up some of the sleeping prisoners.

"Damn it!" Leon's voice. There were many footsteps. "Get her out of this place. I want her at the execution site pronto. And tell the warden to get a new chair. One with stronger straps."

Leon followed two guards as they dragged a woman down the hallway to the dark side. She kicked and yelled, screaming out swear words and other phrases. "NEVER! I'LL NEVER COOPERATE!"

"And you'll die!" roared Leon back to her.

"FINE!" It was Delaney Finch.

"You gave us what we wanted, but you wouldn't submit! You've done yourself in already!" Leon shouted back angrily. Lieschen got close to the bars and peered down the hallway as they came closer. Leon was bleeding on his hand. She must've bit his hand. Hard.

"I won't let you plant that bug on me just so I can be a slave to this hellhole!!" Finch hissed back, more quietly but nonetheless terribly. "I might have told you everything but you won't get my cooperation!"

"And that's why you're a damn fool!" Leon glared straight ahead, holding his bleeding hand into a clenched fist. "You sold out your little friends! Think they'll like you for that?"

_What is it that Andross wants? _Lieschen wondered. _What did Delaney tell him? I hope not much! Nothing important! But what could we know that would be useful to the Venomian Empire?_

Lieschen scooted back into the shadows of her cell to hide from Leon. She didn't want attention from him. Nestor didn't move. Lieschen heard Olivia slide to the back as well. The door slid open as Leon, the guards, and a scruffed-up Delaney Finch went by. The night air sank in, giving a fresh breath of air to the prisoners. Soon they were gone.

Another man ran in. Lieschen recognized him. It was the captain who was sitting next to Wolf O'Donnell. What could he want?

The leopard man went to the control panel and entered in some digits. Then the forcefield disappeared.

"You only have a few minutes, as I was instructed to meet Leon on the grounds in the same amount of time," he announced to the prisoners. "Take the fire exit down the end of this hallway, and do it quickly. You'll need to lay low in the forests of Venom. If you are caught, it's likely you'll be executed. If I'm caught, I will too. So get moving. And say nothing of me." The leopard-man disappeared.

Lieschen helped Nestor up and joined the woman named Olivia down the hallway. Other prisoners had broke into sprints. There wasn't much time to run. The three of them tore down the fire exit hallway and into the night.

Calan arrived just in time to join Wolf at the execution site. The two guards were still holding Delaney Finch down. Leon's eyes blazed as he watched them tie her up on a pole. The Execution Hill was up high on a—you guessed it—hill. It overlooked the prison base and the forest grounds above the Twin Underground Cities. All around the hill were mounds of dirt, where a person had been buried after being executed. They were placed in simple wooden boxes. Saved time and money.

On the top of the hill were long poles of about fifteen feet in height. A person was usually just tied onto the pole and shot, but sometimes certain disloyal people got worse executions. Often times they were beat a little before being tied up high on the pole, where an elevated mobile staircase allowed guards to put them up high. The sole tree on Execution Hill was forlorn and old. It had once been an oak tree of beauty, now it held the bodies of recently executed people while they hung from its limbs, usually by their feet or arms.

This time, Delaney Finch was to die overlooking the base.

The guards dragged her up the staircase and all the way up to the top. They had the ropes. Leon was so mad that he wanted her dead as quickly as possible. He wasn't even going to inflict any torture. Calan and Wolf walked toward the base of the poles, where Leon stood and watched, his arms crossed and eyes blazing.

"Nice night," commented Calan.

"Yeah," Wolf muttered solemnly. As usual.

Leon turned and faced them. "I want the prisoners to parade past her tomorrow morning, while I set her pole afire. The warden will have to get a new one. I want her hanging there for a few hours, then we'll set it on fire. She had better hope she is dead from the gunshot wounds we'll throw on her before the fire gets too close." He smiled at the thought. "Let it be a lesson to all that oppose the Empire."

Leon's comm link went off. The transmitter beeped twice before he answered. "What?!"

"_Sir, prisoners have escaped. They're running about the compound as we speak. Go to Red Alert?_"

Leon was furious. "YES! Hector, I want guards _swarming _the area, do you hear me?! _SWARMING!_"

"_Yessir!_"

Leon stormed down the hill. He called to Wolf and Calan, "You two stay there, got that? STAY THERE!"

Calan and Wolf stood silently.

Lieschen, Olivia, and Nestor were hiding. Hiding from a vicious enemy.

Their spot was behind a large tree. The forest-jungle was warm below the canopy, away from the open areas exposed to the night. Even so, guards began to run out in different directions through the jungle. Some were shouting and waving guns on the open plain. Close to Execution Hill. From their stakeout they could see the long poles. Lieschen could see them tying up Delaney Finch on the center one. And an angry man storming down the hill, shouting orders. Leon.

"Nestor, what do we do?" Lieschen whispered.

Nestor lifted a grayed finger. "Shhh. Don't talk yet."

They waited.

A few soldiers in full uniform raged past a tree on the other side of the plain. Some prisoners were being dragged back. A few laser fires. Someone was running away. Someone was shot, too. Probably the same someone.

Nestor started to move. "Run!"

They did. And they didn't stop.

Calan wanted to be somewhere else. He wished he was on a mission to Corneria instead of Abe and Joss. He wished he was a regular civilian. He wished he was on Adratia. He wished he was on his ship. Anywhere but here.

Leon was gleeful. He couldn't stop grinning.

"Can we get this over with?" Wolf complained. "I'm tired and feeling grumpy."

Leon didn't reply. He watched the firing squad get ready. Prisoners were lined up to watch. Finch looked dead already. She didn't even move. Soldiers were everywhere. And Calan wanted to escape. He began to think about the LARG and himself. What if they were caught? What if _he _was caught for letting the prisoners out?

"On your mark...ready...FIRE!!" bellowed Leon. The firing squad unleashed a fury of lasers. All hit Delaney on the spot. Prisoners gasped and some screamed. Leon took a torch from one of the guards and lit the base of the pole on fire. It would slowly climb upward. Eventually the base would crumble and the pole would fall over. Guards would be standing by to wash out the fire.

Leon cheered and held his arm in the air, fist clenched. He shouted into a microphone, "Let that be a lesson to you all! Never dishonor loyal servants of the emperor!"

Leon contacted Andross straightaway. Calan got closer to hear. "Sire, we have taken most of the prisoners back into our control, but some are missing."

"_It does not matter, Leon. We are going to have company soon_."

"Have the Lylatians found us?"

"_Yes. But it does not matter. I am ready for our visitors._"

"Who, Excellency?"

"_Star Fox._"


	9. Schism

Chapter 9:

_Schism_

Joss and Abraham stepped out into the warm, humid air of the Venomian November. They'd just recieved that Star Fox was on their way to Venom. Did they know about Saturnalia and Lupercalia? Did they know Andross was behind this?

"It's going to be a long ride," said Abe, "so I put all of our luggage and special passports in the compartment beneath. It'll be at least twelve hours until we get there. I can't risk going any faster, especially since we're going around Meteo, and there are all sorts of debris out there. Star Fox will be coming in the other way—according to Andross' calculations, and they'll be here in under nine hours, so we need to get going. Andross wants us out of here long before they come."

Abe jumped in the pilot's seat. Joss climbed behind him into the passenger's seat. "Buckle yourself in, now. And if anything bothers you, let me know, okay? We'll go over some regulations as soon as we're off of this stupid planet."

Abe fired up the engine and they were in the air within a matter of seconds. He flipped some switches and grabbed the throttle. They flew into the air, right into the sky. Joss held her breath at the view. She'd never seen this side of her home.

Abraham caught her looking. "Just you wait until you see the outside. Then you can see the big bastard as it really is...."

The sky around her was soon turning more orange than normal. She felt the ship heat up. A few minutes later they were out into a black blanket. There was nothing. It was quiet. And pitch-black.

Joss shivered. "It looks "

"Of course it's cold. It's space. But it's not really cold yet. Not until we get away from the planet. Don't look at the sun. You'll go blind."

Joss avoided it. She averted her eyes to the stars that were coming into view. Little specks of white light—sometimes blue, red, or orange—all in clusters. She wondered what Corneria would be like. Joss couldn't wait to get there. From all the stories she heard, it sounded like some sort of fairy tale. Perhaps it was; with kings and queens, knights, and princes and princesses riding white horses and wielding swords. Abraham had told her a story of Aquitaine, which was one of the countries of ancient Corneria, back in the Third Age. She had a curiosity to hear more stories about Corneria.

"Abraham, could you tell a story about the Third Age?"

Abe set the Rostik to autopilot. "Sure. I wouldn't mind. Let me think of one...."

"Any one works."

Abe scratched his head. "Heck, I dunno. Have you heard the one on the beginning of the empire?"

"Yes. Care to tell it again?"

Abraham stretched his arms. "Where to start....?"

"So what's the plan, boss?" asked Wolf.

Andross, dressed in all dark black, with the exception of a red cape that was draped over his left arm, gave a smile. "I've made arrangements with Dengar. He was astounded that we existed, but I gave him proof, right on his private transmitter. I also told him that if he lead McCloud and Hare right to me, I would let him live."

"But sir," protested Wolf, "Dengar was one of those responsible for capturing you back on Corneria. Don't you think it's a bit suspicious of you to let him live when clearly you'd like nothing more than to kill him as well as McCloud and Hare?"

"You're right, of course," Andross said, his eyes twinkling. "I _would _like nothing better than to have all three of them dead, along with Pepper and Peregrine. But I'm afraid that's not possible right now. Not yet. As far as suspicious, no. Who cares? In the Cornerians' eyes, Dengar is a traitor and nothing more."

"Sir," Wolf began again, "I don't want to work with—"

"You'll do as I ask, O'Donnell, or you'll pay with your life, just like the escapees from the prison compound," snapped Andross.

Wolf was quiet immidiately. He'd seen how they died.

Calan was itching for a way to get out. He sensed that Andross knew this as well.

"Calan, I want you, Wolf, and Leon to join Dengar at the prison compound in exactly one hour. Star Fox will be here in at least thirty minutes. I will take care of them first in my own way. You will stay in the prison compound until I contact you. Understood?"

"Yessir."

"As you say, sir."

The prison compound was zippy and spontaneous. Leon was excited from recieving a secret text message from Pigma Dengar, the third member of the Star Fox team. Leon waved the printed copy around as he sat in his desk in his office quarters. Wolf sat on the corner of the desk and Calan paced.

"See this?!" Leon tossed it to Calan. "Dengar's on our side now, and soon the Cornerians will be informed!"

Calan read the paper. "_Coming in soon. Be ready. James and Peppy don't suspect a thing. Have a place for me. With any luck you'll finish off both of them._" Calan looked up at Leon.

"Isn't he quite the traitor?" Leon rambled on, excited.

"So are you, Cornerian-boy," muttered Wolf.

Leon chose to wave the comment off. "This guy's trading in his own friends for a little reward! I don't even know what this reward is, but His Excellency knows, he always knows things like that. Our rewards are coming in too, if we can eliminate any opposing mercenary teams hired by the Cornerians."

"Apparently we're all a bunch of traitors," said Calan. "To the other Lylatians, anyway. I was convicted and you two have joined with Andross, therefore they're going to see this as treason."

"It won't matter. We'll win." Leon snatched back the paper and with his lighter, he lit the paper on fire. He tossed it into the metal wastebasket.

"I'm getting a headache," Calan complained.

No one answered him.

Leon's comm link went off. "Yeah?"

"_They're nearly here.Get in your Wolfens and take them out. Our laser should be able to damage their ships bad enough to the point where resistance is futile._"

Leon's mouth curved into a malicious smile. "Good."

James McCloud sat in a dark cell while Calan, Wolf, and Leon stood, waiting for Pigma and Andross to come. He sat in the darkest corner, so that only the shadows of his face were visible. McCloud had drawn himself up in his arms, with his emotionless face staring straight ahead.

Footsteps. Andross and a middle-aged pig in a green pilot suit were striding toward them.

"Excellency, Hare escaped," said Leon. "But he's useless anyway."

Andross grinned at their captive. "Hello, James. Remember me?"

James McCloud gazed up and saw Pigma. An intense wave of fury flickered in his eyes. "Andross...."

"Yes, yes. Aren't you in the least bit surprised that my empire has grown to love me?"

"Pepper thought there was something fishy about this," James said, his smooth, deep voice sounding more and more angry.

"_Fishy,_" repeated Andross. "He thought it was _fishy_. Of course, I have seven million people, unbeknownst to existence, waiting at my call. Every man, woman, and child will fight for me because they know that I am their way out of isolation and imprisonment underground. They can finally see the sun, they'll be able to live under blue skies, they can grow fields of fruit and vegetables, they can sit on a back porch and watch the stars—all thanks to me. Even more, they'll no longer be fugitives."

"You're a crazy man. You're leading them into oblivion, once Corneria knows—"

"They already know, McCloud!" Andross snapped softly. "Pepper will know by now—your hare friend has probably transmitted messages to him. By tomorrow I will announce you as dead. No one will know you're alive. Even your teammate thinks you're dead. Only we will know the truth."

"My son will come after you, and so will Peppy," James breathed, his fists clenched.

"Of course. And they'll both die. I'll be kind enough to let you watch." Andross nodded to Leon. "Get Dengar situated and see to it that a new Wolfen is built for him." Leon and Pigma disappeared down the hallway, leaving Wolf, Calan, and Andross with James.

"You bastard!" snarled James.

"Throwing insults at me will not hurt me, James. Oh, don't worry. You'll see your son again. And probably your wife. And your friend." Before he left, Andross added, "I just hope you have fun watching your precious Corneria crumble to bits. I plan to rule it with an iron hand, and no foolish mercenary team is going to stand in my way."

Joss yawned and opened her eyes. She hadn't meant to doze off. Abraham was still piloting the ship. His eyes were always alert. He noticed she had wakened.

"Oh, awake now? Look. There's Corneria. We'll be landing in about twenty minutes." He pointed out the window at a large planet, with swirly clouds of white and blue oceans. Green bodies of land littered and stretched on different parts of the planet. A few moons could be seen in the distance, like little pricks.

Joss almost leaped up. "Space is so beautiful...."

Abe smiled. "I never get tired of space flight. Or air flight. It was wonderful to fly in Cornerian skies, looking down at the highlands and hills. The coast is also very beautiful. You'll find Corneria to be very green. There are few deserts on Corneria—I think maybe there's one, and small at that. The polar ice caps are small. It's a very temperate place."

Joss pointed to one of the moons. It was the closest, with its color visible. "Which moon is _that_? It looks like a white swirl!"

"Those swirls are blizzards. The planet is Ameba. It's a blob of white in a dark, dark place." Abe sped the ship up and prepared for re-entry. "The commander of the single base there—Governor of Ameba, actually—is a very nice guy. Very nice. Alastair Thatcher. I don't suppose you've heard of him. I'll be staying at Ameba for awhile. My fake I.D. shouldn't be inspected too carefully at Ameba. They only have about 40,000 people there, in total, at the base. For a moon, it's not bad, but...."

Joss nodded. "So, what's this governor like? Have you met him or something?"

Abraham flipped a couple of switches, and they jetted toward the atmosphere at the correct angle. "I have. He's my mother's first cousin. Back in Corneria, it was pretty cool to have a relative that was the governor of a moon."

"I can only imagine."

"Yeah. Pretty cool."

The sky around them was turning a shade of orange. But their efforts to get to the airport were becoming vain. A group of four starfighters jetted to the Rostik. Joss' heart was pumping rapidly. "Abraham–-!"

"_Identify yourself,_" was all that came out of the first fighter.

"We're a ship from...Jastarian."

"_There are to be no ships docking today, or at any time this week._"

"Under who's orders?"

"_General Pepper's orders, bud._"

"But why?"

"_That's not important to you. Turn around, now._"

"No."

"Abe!" Joss panicked silently.

"_Turn that ship around or we'll shoot you down._"

"We have no choice but to keep going, Joss," Abe said, avoiding her gaze. He leaned toward the microphone. "We're not moving."

"_Fine._" The first fighter shot a missle at the back of the Rostik. Abe geared the ship straight downwards. The fighters pursued them. The missle hit the ship and made it creak and rattle. An explosion blew apart the back.

"We're going down!" yelled Abe. "Get ready to eject!"

It was then that Joss noticed soldiers and a few tanks lining up on the ground, watching the view.

Abe hit his ejection switch, and Joss did the same. They flew out into the Cornerian air, which smelled of the ocean—in fact, they could both see it, being so high up in the sky. Their seats spirted down at an angle, towards the plains. A forest area was nearby—they'd need to get there in order to escape. Joss knew that they had run out of options. They couldn't land anywhere but Corneria, according to Andross' orders, and they wouldn't have enough fuel to get back to Venom. And since they couldn't get into Corneria like that, how would the assassins, who were to come later, get in?

Joss couldn't breathe very well; they were going so fast. She was following Abe to the bottom, and the ground was getting closer and closer. A small squad of soldiers was running to retrieve them—good luck with that, if Joss had anything to do with it.

Abe was yelling something to her, but she couldn't hear it. The seat slowed down as Joss got closer, to the point where she could see individual strands of grass. Joss unstrapped herself and leaped into the green ground, as Abe had done just seconds before. She rolled a little, but luckily nothing broke. Abe was running all ready. "Come on!" he bellowed, as he made his way to the forest. Abe took out his gun and was ready to face soldiers. Joss did the same. It was a dash over the plains.

"Sir, we're detecting something—Agent Grissom and Agent Lafayette have left their ship," said an aide, clearly puzzled.

Andross moved to the aide. "So they ejected, or they landed?"

"Uh...ejected. The ship is gone, sir."

"It crashed, I suppose." Andross sounded indifferent.

Calan moved by the aide as well. "You saying they're running out there?!"

"Yessir. Vital signs show heavy heartbeats. They're being chased, I'd say."

Calan looked at the emperor. "Your Excellency, permission to—?"

"No." Andross stared expressionless at the aide's monitor. Agent Lafayette's signs suddenly jumped and then went into the classical straight line.

"Sir!" the aide yelped. "She's going!"

"Leave her. Grissom might yet make it."

Calan was tied up in knots on the inside. He balled up his fists and held his arms straight down. "Can we at least have a memorial service, _sir_?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Captain, I would hardly stop you." Andross frowned. "So much for our plan. I do hope Grissom dies quickly; we can't risk having information spilled out."

Calan held his tongue and did his best for his temper.

Brizius was sitting in the back, chattering to his wife—one of the Lafayette sisters. They didn't appear to have noticed the commotion in the far front of the room.

"Porter, I'm leaving it to you to inform Mrs. Brizius, please," requested Andross, still sounding neutral and bored.

"Yessir." Calan moved to the back. General Brizius swallowed the rest of his champagne and poured himself more. "Captain Porter, it's nice to see you. Erika and I were just talking about you."

"Really...."

"Yes," said Mrs. Brizius, a kind but introverted woman. "You have a lot of approval from others in the military." She smiled rather shyly at Calan.

Calan started, "I—I—"

"Yes?"

"I—Mrs. Brizius, something happened, and His Excellency wanted to report it to you...you see, your sister—she's dead."

Mrs. Brizius cupped her hands to her mouth. "No!"

"I'm awfully sorry."

Brizius hugged his wife. "There, there...it's all right, come on, let's go back to the house. Come on...." She leaned on his shoulder, and Calan could hear her sobs as the couple strode down the hallway. Calan went back to Andross.

Calan felt like saying, "_I hope you're pleased, sir..._" to him, but he kept it to himself unwillingly. He thought it better to try to appear a little more disciplined so that Andross wouldn't have to execute him or something of the sort.

He scrunched his nose, thinking of Mrs. Brizius. _How could she marry him?! _

Abraham could hear the shots. He had looked back to see Joss go down, and his heart sunk horribly. Was she thinking of him, or maybe the story about the Third Age? Was it about surviving, thoughts of a failed plan, or sitting in a prison? Perhaps it was none of those things, just the will to run, run, run.

He ducked into the trees and knew he coudn't hide from the soldiers there. He'd have to escape into a house of some form. The area, he noticed, was abundant in ocean-side homes and cottages. If he hurried to one, maybe jumped through a window, he could get away. The soldiers weren't very well equipped with proper machinery, seeing as they didn't have a speeder bike and could only run to catch him. Abe found the edge of the small forest and sprinted through a community of houses. He saw a shed with an open door next to a sky-blue painted house. This was his moment. Abraham dived into the shed and scrambled up, shutting the door as quickly and as quietly as he could. It was a good time to catch his breath.

Abe guessed he was in the outskirts of Corneria City, in some ocean-side suburbia. He didn't know where to go from there, except to maybe find Andross' nephew, as the emperor had ordered them to do on the way. Andrew lived in Corneria City, so Abe figured he'd have to walk. Or run.

He peered through a crack in the wooden wall. A few soldiers scattered and checked homes. But no one knew anything about a loose man. It was only a matter of time until he was caught.

Calan was seated at a desk near the aide who was tracking Abraham when Old Ray Garnett barged into the war room, much to the protest of the guards outside.

"Hey! Emperor! I've in mind to have a little chat..."

Andross wheeled around. "Mr. Garnett, do not even bother."

Over the past two years Garnett spent his time and energy speaking against Andross and his regime, calling him corrupt and a tyrant just waiting to get some bloodshed before he thirsts for more. Once, Ray had shouted that 'all of Andross' plans were demoralizing' in a conference room packed with some of the emperor's top generals. Calan had glanced at Ray and said, "I dunno, Ray, but I think a lot of 'em are both genius and crazy." Garnett had stormed out of the room and didn't say much to Calan after that.

Now he was standing before Andross himself. "Bother what, boy? I might be old but I ain't out of my mind, unlike you!"

"Mr. Garnett, I will ask once and only once—stay out of this and stay out of my fur. If I catch you near my officers—"

"I told you time and again that meddlin' with the Cornerians if bad business. Now you're draggin' innocent people in with this. Well, I've had enough. Time I did somethin' about it. I am not gonna live with it!"

"I'm afraid you aren't going to live at all if you keep this up," Andross replied coldly.

Garnett pulled a pistol out, but Andross was faster. One shot was all that was heard, and Old Ray was dead before he hit the floor.

"Was that really necessary?" whined Premier Tucker, who'd been in the room for only an hour.

"Of course. Traitors will not be abided by me or any of my staff. I told you all that if an officer disobeys or shows some form of treachery, you are to execute him or her on the spot, did I not?"

"Yes, Excell—"

"And I will not accept loose-tongued people either."

"Naturally, sir!"

"Thank you, Forrest. Besides, I was getting sick of him barging in Imperial conference and war rooms."

Calan tallied up his latest casualties. Joss Lafayette and Ray Garnett. That was decent compared to what could come when Andross finally declared war on Lylat. It wasn't that Calan didn't grieve, it was that he feared that sooner or later he wouldn't have time to grieve because there would be many casualties. The whole Lylatian army out to bite them in the tail!


	10. For the Glory Of the Empire

Chapter 10:

_For the Glory of the Empire_

Corneria City, Corneria

A Few Days Later

Abraham's leg was itching. His stomach growled, and his trigger finger ached from slamming it into a stone wall. He hadn't eaten at all that day. For lunch yesterday he stole a loaf of garlic bread from a bakery. The baker yelled and waved his fists as Abraham sprinted, itchy leg and all, to his hiding spot underneath the Farrell Bridge.

He'd been in tough spots before, so this was no different. _Poor Mom, she'd be so mad at me..._he thought, drawing shapes in the dirt with a finger. _So ashamed...poor Mom. I ought to visit her at least. But they might be looking for me there...wait, of course they wouldn't, they don't know who I really am! That was stupid. Unless they somehow taped my voice and had a trace...aww, what the hell. _

Abraham crawled out of his space and sprinted across the highway (it was clear) and dashed into the trees. The emperor's nephew had to live nearby...in fact, Abe wouldn't be surprised if he was under scrutiny because of Andross and the fact that his uncle was controlling an empire over there. And yet, General Pepper might yet be oblivious to the fact that Andross might want his nephew as a potential heir. Then again, Andross could name anyone his heir...or the top general could declare himself or herself emperor. Easy as that.

As he trotted through the forest, Abe noticed the fog picking up again like it did in the morning. The clouds had been gray, but Corneria's usual highland fog was getting thick.

The Oikonny house was near the forest, he knew. He just prayed that he had waited long enough for the authorities to search elsewhere. Abraham squatted down by the clearing to search the backyards. He scanned the area—it looked peaceful and foggy.

Wet from the misty fog, Abe wiped his forehead with a hand and proceeded. _"A man is judged by the company he keeps," _his father once said to him. So he'd just have to find out what kind of person Andrew Oikonny was. The backyards all looked the same from there, but once Abe got in front, he could find the house. Stealthily he moved to the front of the large neighborhood and explored the area. _Lemme see...1514 Pineridge Avenue...hm, that house? It looks respectable. I would have thought they lived in a trailer._ Abraham smirked to himself as he gazed on the Oikonny house. The grass was green and neat, there were flowers arranged carefully in front, and the house was a two story with cleanliness written all over it. The place looked like an upper-middle class habitat.

Abraham mustered up everything and went up to ring the doorbell.

A middle-aged woman answered, looking tired. "Hello?"

"Uh...hi. Is Andrew there?"

"You're one of his friends, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Abe looked at her seriously.

She turned back to the interior and yelled, "ANDREW! YOUR FRIEND IS HERE!"

A few seconds later, a teenage likeness of Emperor Andross himself was standing in front of him. Mrs. Oikonny left.

"Do I know you?" Andrew asked, clearly perplexed.

"Not yet, but you will. Can we go somewhere secure?"

"Sure, the back porch is okay. It's getting really foggy anyway."

They moved to the back. Andrew wore baggy clothes that didn't seem to fit him, for he was short and stocky. As soon as they were seated, he said, "All right, what's this about?"

"Your uncle wants you."

Andrew frowned. "You want to be a little more specific?"

"Your uncle Andross. He wants you to go to Venom."

Andrew stared.

"Come on, don't look at me like that. I'm an agent sent by the emperor to collect you and bring you back, whether you like it or not. If I have to knock you out to do it, then I will."

Andrew shrugged. "I wasn't going to struggle. I don't like the pricks living here anyway. When can we go?"

"Soon. I need you to help me get to Fortuna or Katina or somewhere so we can get to Venom. My ship crashed and my partner was gunned down by soldiers about five miles away. If they catch me—"

Andrew broke in, "So you're like a convict? Cool!"

"Wha—no! I'm an _agent_. Hired by Emperor Andross."

"Wait, did you say _emperor?_ Dude, my uncle is emperor of something!"

"Uhng..." Abraham rubbed his temple. This was going to be difficult. There was so much Andrew didn't know. He probably didn't even know that his uncle was alive and well in Venom because the army hadn't released information that Andross was behind the death of James McCloud and was in charge of a Venomian empire. "Okay, you know what? Go back in, tell your mom that Andross has summoned you and that I'm an agent of Venom. Tell her that it's important she tells everyone that you went to Fortuna to get some extra schooling there...at least, we need that cover up until we can get out of the Cornerian air space. Pack your things. We're leaving today. And let's pretend I'm your best friend George McNaughton, understand? Trust me, it's crucial, and we don't want me dead. And I can't have you dead. Because Emperor Andross will be very angry. And while we're traveling, don't ask me any questions. Your uncle can do that. He has more patience than I do, anyway."

Abe motioned for Andrew to go inside and tell his mother. He heard the sound of a plate splinter into a hundred pieces and a frightened woman—presumably Mrs. Oikonny—yelp.

"Going off to—no! You're not to go near that man, you understand? Nowhere near...if your father was alive, do you know what he'd say!"

"Mom—look, I have to go! Mr. McNaughton—erm, the agent out there—will die!"

"Oh, so now you have to risk yourself? Do I have to lose my husband and my son as well!"

"No...I'm okay Mom, really! Besides, you have Aunt Janice to talk to..."

Abraham swallowed hard as Andrew finally came back outside.

"I really don't know how you're going to do this, mister...?"

"Grissom. Just call me Abe."

"Okay, Abe, how are we going to get to Venom?"

Abe asked, "Do you have a CCT? A secure one?"

"Um, yeah...I'll go get it."

Andrew returned a minute later with the portable comlink channel-transmitter. "Up and running. Just put in the channel you want and that's it."

Abraham typed in Wolf's channel code and keyword. Wolf answered his through occasional bits of static.

"Abe, dude, you're alive—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I need a lift. I have Andrew with me and I need a way off of Corneria. Can you do it?"

Wolf smiled. "I'll be there."

The next morning they met Wolf by Woodfall City. It didn't take much for him to get into Corneria: he just shot everyone who got in his way. Wolf smiled as Abraham walked to him—still in dirty clothes, seeing as they'd slept in a wheat field nearby. Andrew was a few paces behind, quietly following.

"How many did you shoot down just to land here?" Abe asked.

"Five." Wolf turned his smile to a grin. "A few blew up in the sky, one crashed into the lake, and the other went straight to the ground. No doubt the army will have picked up this incident by now, so we need to leave. You ready?"

"Ready as ever. Let's get running."

Wolf helped them throw some of Andrew's things in the compartment area.

The Shangri-La parked in front of them was a fighter big enough to hold the pilot and two other passengers, so it was convienient. Not only that, but the fighter was extremely fast. They would have no trouble getting to Venom later on that day.

Wolf powered up the ship as Abe and Andrew climbed in and fastened themselves to the seat. He flicked a switch here and there, and soon the machine was screeching into the sunlight. There were no Cornerian ships in sight, and Abe figured there would be none, either.

"Make sure you're at top speed," said Abe nervously.

"Don't worry about it," Wolf replied. "Honest to God, I know what I'm doing. Just sit tight."

Abraham had always been restless when he thought of Wolf piloting a ship as that. The man only had one working eye! It was obvious that Wolf Marcus O'Donnell was a master of the sky, for no normal pilot could deal with vision only on one side.

Andrew seemed to have a similar idea.

"If you can see out of just one eye, how did they let you fly?" he inquired.

Wolf didn't turn to face him. "Who's 'they'?"

"Like, whoever's in charge."

"Your uncle? He doesn't give a damn. And frankly, if anyone ever told me I couldn't fly, I shot them." He laughed darkly. Abraham watched Andrew sink farther into his seat, as if shrinking away from Wolf. He went on, "No, bud, there isn't a soul on Venom who would oppose me. I'm something of a public hero." Wolf smiled at the thought. "The emperor and his regime are seen as heroes. You'd like to be a hero too, wouldn't you?"

Andrew nodded. "I...I guess."

"Sure you would. We can help you there."

They cruised through space, passing Corneria's nearby moons. They traveled by way of Sector Y, since it was far safer to go through than the Asteroid Field. The sector of mysterious gases, like Sectors X and Z, was charted, but few Cornerian vessels bothered journey there. It was dangerous, they deemed. But as the three males viewed it, Sector Y was not a threat—it was beautiful. Swirls of yellow and green gases in several different shades curved and made pictures, like frost on a window. The great nebula appeared to sing to its visitors in the eerie silence.

"Makes you feel as if some spirit lives there, doesn't it?" Wolf whispered to them. "There is one living in there, in each of the other sectors, I suspect. I've met her..."

Neither Abraham nor Andrew had any idea of whether he was joking around or being serious. If he was serious, then the two didn't know what to make of him. Insanity? Madness?

But Wolf didn't go on. He cranked up the highest warp drive and set it to autopilot. "You two can catch some sleep."

"What are you gonna do?" asked Abe.

He didn't answer at first. "Write."

Two Days Later

November 12, 2671

Calan clicked his pen loudly.

"_Do stop that racket, Captain. I must stay focused," _Andross said to him telepathically. Calan set his pen down and impatiently breathed a sigh. Wolf and Abe were suppost to be returning with Andrew, and once they did, things would pick up more quickly.

"Sir," Leon began, "those prisoners I talked to you about are still missing. I was just thinking maybe we could...collect them?"

Andross eyed Leon. "If you had been more organized, they never would have escaped. I'm surprised to know you haven't found them yet—after all, there's only so long you can survive in the Venomian jungles and wastelands without supplies." He laughed. "I told you then to leave them and not worry. And I tell you the same now. There is nothing they can do against us."

"_Your Grace, Captain O'Donnell has returned with Oikonny and Grissom."_

"Send them to the throne room in exactly five minutes," Andross ordered.

"_Yessir."_

Andross rose. "Both of you come with me."

"If you don't mind, Lordship, might I inquire why this boy matters so much?" Premier Tucker asked quietly, as the top members of the cabinet gathered into the throne room.

"That's for me to know, and you to not ask about. Just do as you're told." Andross sat in his emperor's chair, facing the entrance.

The door slid open, and a trio of males walked in. Wolf O'Donnell, looking vigorous, escorted a dirty and tired-looking Abraham Grissom and a teenage ape. The young man gazed at the room in awe.

"I have your nephew in good health, Excellency. And the Shangri-La I took to get there. Well, maybe a few scratches on the side—I had a brawl with some army officials while breaking through the atmosphere, but I licked 'em." Wolf beckoned for Abe to follow him into a side hallway.

Andross stared at his nephew, as if communicating telepathically.

Tucker and Brizius exchanged looks. Calan only yawned.

Carnell scowled. "Sire, are we still needed here?"

"Have patience, Blaise." Andross gazed at his nephew. "So, you've been taking good care of your mother? She's had it hard, I gather."

"Since the accident." Andrew looked at his shoes.

"Since the accident," echoed Andross. "Tell me something. Would you join me if I told you that you would inherit part of my wealth and power?"

"Sure. What about my mother?"

"Oh, don't worry. When I rule all of Lylat, she will live wherever she likes." Andross rose. "I want you to be trained, Andrew, trained to fly a starfighter. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I believe so." Andrew smiled a little. "But how—"

"Captain O'Donnell will be your instructor. Wolf, you and Leon will need to be putting things together for your team. Two new members are two be added for the sake of our regime."

"Two, sir?" Wolf frowned a little. "Star Wolf has always been just me and Leon. Who else is to be added?"

"My nephew here, and Pigma Dengar. Luckily for you, Mr. Dengar has the experience. Don't worry, you can keep your post as leader and Captain of your team."

Wolf was vexed, anyone could tell. The idea of working alongside a traitor like Pigma Dengar and some lanky teenager didn't sit well with him.

"Sir," he said through gritted teeth, "I don't think this will do well. Neither I nor Leon will be able to accommodate to this."

"You had better, O'Donnell, if you value your life." Andross' eyes were dangerous and flashing. "You will teach my nephew and you will teach him well. I don't want my heir to be a worthless idiot. Inform him, keep him up-to-date, and help him when he needs it. You're a master of this business, as am I, but I am far too busy to be coaching him. I have an army and an empire to run. Do you understand?"

Wolf stood there for a few seconds, silent.

Then, "Your will is mine."

Andross waved him out with a content nod.

Wolf turned on his heel and left.

November 28, 2671

Lupercalian Force Sigma Hangars

The air was humid, but it didn't stop Andrew Oikonny from walking down the filthy dirt trail to Hangar 4, where Star Wolf stored their ships and equipment. He was told that both O'Donnell and Powalski were all ready there, and that Dengar would be joining them later.

Andrew walked slowly, aware that his presence there was not going to be welcome. He understood their resentment, but if his uncle had ordered them to teach him, then they damn better well do it and respect him in the process. It occurred to Andrew that he was to be very important as the chief heir to his uncle and possibly the next emperor of Venom. All this would put him at prince status—however, he was not granted the title and it was never mentioned.

He wondered how his mother was doing all by herself, with no one to talk to. She was not a happy woman, with her husband dead from a mining accident and her being forced to testify at Andross' trial back in 2667, which was just four years ago. Her sister's husband had been killed in the massacre, so Andrew knew that seeing Aunt Petra in the prosecution side of the courtroom—along with all the other families of the three hundred victims—tore her apart. Aunt Petra did not blame her, of course, since none of it was her fault, but still Diana Oikonny was unhappy.

Guilt suddenly hung on Andrew as he got near the door. Leaving behind his mother, joining up with his murderous uncle—it all felt like a dream, a lustful dream in which only he would benefit.

He opened the door and shut it slowly. The hangar's lights were on, yet no one was in sight. Four ships glimmered in the dark lighting. They had to be the Wolfens, the pride and joy of Captain O'Donnell. Very much unlike the Shangri-La that had been used to pick he and Mr. Grissom up. In the back he could see a room—must be an office. Andrew went there. He noticed a keypad on the side. It was a password-required door.

Why in the galaxy the office door would only need a keypad and the door to the hangar entrance would not baffled Andrew. It seemed to him that the most worthy loot were the ships themselves. Unless the Wolfens themselves had idenfication requirements built into them.

Andrew knocked. No one answered. Only the sound of a starting rainstorm beating down on the hangar was heard.

Suddenly the entrance door slid up and two dark figures walked in. The smell of fresh rain blew in. "Captain O'Donnell?" he called.

"You're early," replied Wolf. He walked with a chameleon—Andrew assumed that was Leon Powalski.

"I thought I was late," Andrew answered back.

"I hope you didn't touch anything. There's nothing worse than a monkey traitor's fingerprints all over _expensive titanium_," Leon sneered.

Andrew scowled back. "Look here, mister, I don't want to be here any more than you do, so shove it. Uncle is forcing me to join your so-called 'elite' team."

"Damn right, your uncle is quite bent on making you a man—although it is all ready a failed attempt." Leon's dark eyes met Andrew's.

Wolf pushed into the middle. "Both of you shut up. We have work to do. And if this team is going to work, we'll have to find a way to get along. I know Dengar isn't going to be pleasant, either, but we all need to swallow our pride and get over it." To Andrew he asked, "Have you been to the flight modules? Do you have the training simulations over with?"

"Yeah. Yesterday was the last one. I scored okay."

"Good enough to make it, I guess." Wolf pressed a few keys on the keypad and the door slid open. He disappeared behind the door again, inside his office. Andrew and Leon waited for about a minute before Wolf emerged. He handed Andrew a piece of paper.

"Your code number for your Wolfen. Mind you take good care of that paper until you've memorized the number. Burn it when you do. And please, do it quickly. We can't risk you losing it."

"Okay."

Wolf watched Leon head to his Wolfen. He looked back at Andrew and said, "Try to be nice. Leon will murder you in your sleep if you aren't careful." To that he laughed and the hangar force field slowly disappeared. Andrew stuffed the paper in his pocket and followed Wolf, feeling that he was getting more and more out-of-place with every footstep.

Andrew waited for the cockpit window to swoop up. He ran the drills through his head. _Climb in, access the power key, check the gravity diffuser, watch all systems for abnormalities, be sure to levitate out of the hangar and into a suitable enviornment before soaring_ _into the air..._ The list of steps went on and on in his mind. He waited for Leon to leave, and then Wolf. Now it was his turn. Feeling anxious, he flipped the power switch and checked all systems. Slowly he hovered his way on out of the hangar.

Over the radio Wolf coached, "Go on, go on, you're doing fine. Hurry up and get by me and Leon. Don't crash into us."

Andrew squinted. The rain made visibility worse than the haze of Corneria's early morning fog. Wolf and Leon were making fun of him, that was evident. Perhaps he might report their behavior to Uncle Andross...yes, His Majesty would fix them up with a stab or two, maybe a shot to the head...whatever suits him. Andrew smiled.

"Kid, you're stalling. What're you doing down there!" Wolf barked into the radio.

"Uh...I'm just re-checking things!"

"Well, stop checking so much! You don't trust my mechanic ability, is that it? Give it a rest and pull your ass up here." Wolf circled above, while Leon was off to the side.

Andrew thrust the throttle forward. The Wolfen flew with amazing speed and handling—there were no gimmicks. This he was thankful for. He flew low, trying to avoid Wolf and Leon.

"All right, we're finally going now. Fly higher and follow me. Leon will be right beside me, and you'll be after us with Dengar. That is our first formation. You always fly right after me, and Dengar goes after Leon. When we break away, you follow me, understand?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Now, we're going to try that formation. See that big rock over there? We're going straight for it. Now all you have to do is follow me when we get close enough. If you fail, you die. This is the real deal. Get ready."

Andrew's hands were sweaty. He wiped them on his pants and held his breath as Wolf and Leon swerved left and right. He yanked the throttle left with all his might. It didn't require all his might, though. He ended up losing Wolf and going straight for another rock formation. His heart almost stopped. Andrew pulled it right again and narrowly dodged the rock.

"You almost broke a wing back there! Be more careful!" snarled Leon.

"S-sorry..." Andrew wiped off his hands again. "I p-panicked."

"Well, don't! And don't you dare piss your pants in my spare ship!" Leon flew higher.

Andrew struggled to see them through the rain. Their ships were like small birds in the big sky. He was getting sick of being treated like a clueless child. True, he was inexperienced and new, but they shouldn't beat him up like that. He was, after all, Andrew, Prince of Venom. No one could cross him. Prince Andrew. He liked the sound of it.

"Next formation is the vertical break. Normally we don't use this too often, only when the circumstances arise. Fly with us and get in the rear again." Wolf waited for him to come. When he did, Wolf continued, "All right, you're doing fine. I'm flying up, Leon is flying down. As the diagonal pilot to Leon, you'll go down and to the left. We always use this maneuver for space obstacles, when an enemy ship is coming straight for us and the only way to move is to use the vertical break around it. This time, be ready, and don't panic. We can't afford panicking pilots."

When Wolf and Leon broke, Andrew flew down, this time with more confidence. He kept his cool and heard some actual praise: "Good, good! 'Bout time, kid. You might have some hope after all."

Andrew thought he could hear Wolf smiling on the other side.


End file.
